


Fifteen Cities

by plastic_cello



Series: The Ballad of Tony and Loki [1]
Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Almost Famous References, Alternate Universe, Explicit Language, F/M, Groupies, Late 60s - early 70s, M/M, Rock 'n Roll, Sexual Content, mention of drug use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-06
Updated: 2013-03-01
Packaged: 2017-11-23 21:52:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 35
Words: 91,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/626908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plastic_cello/pseuds/plastic_cello
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony Stark, sixteen year old genius and part-timer writer for Rolling Stone magazine, finds himself on tour with his favorite band, Odin's Sons; and immersed in the indulgent rock 'n roll lifestyle.  But nothing is as indulgent and dark as Loki Odinson.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I was inspired to write this story (although we'll see how far I go with this) by the brilliant story "The Age of Frost" by ragnarok-and-roll-it; which I'd highly recommend that you read (and can be found on Fanfiction.net)! I also drew a lot of inspiration from the film "Almost Famous"; so some of the details very well coincide with it.
> 
> Anyway I hope you enjoy it; and it was nice to have a bit of break from my other story at this point. But rest assured, I'm actively working on the next chapter for it.

* * *

 

**Fifteen Cities :: Prologue**

 

* * *

 

Tony paused; fingers poised above his typewriter, and focused his attention solely on the radio. The DJ repeated the announcement in his overly enunciated speech, feigning excitement, and then repeated it one more time if anyone had missed it the first two times.

_"That's right, folks; you heard it here first! I repeat: Odin's Sons will be headlining their first nationwide tour this summer. Fifteen cities across the good 'ol US of A,"_

"Son of a bitch," Tony breathed in sharply, shoving himself away from his desk, and wheeling his chair towards the rotary phone mounted on the wall.

There was only one person who'd have the scoop on this, and well he might have been a little miffed that he hadn't been informed about this earlier. After all, it was Odin's Sons and Tony was their biggest fan; he had already worn out his favorite tee-shirt to rags, and only listened to their album _Still Waters Run Deep_ while driving his badass '69 Impala.

Swiping his fingers along the dial, Tony waited impatiently for the call to go through. One ring, two ring, three ring, three and a half, and then the receiver was picked up with a huff. The usual spiel echoed in his ear from calling so many times within the past five months; and normally he would have listened politely for the other person to finish, but this was big news.

"Hogie, it's me," he opened with, before quickly adding. "Tony Stark, that is. And before you even say a word about Los Angeles' own Johnny Flies High, which by the way are subpar at best with an incredibly stupid name, I need to ask something, like majorly. You know like, why you didn't mention anything about this little fifteen city tour by Odin's fucking Sons?"

"Please, do not call me Hogie for one," the man on the other line said. "And two, we only got word about the Odin's Sons tour around the same time the radio stations did. It's not like we've put them on the cover, so maybe that's why they're playing coy with us."

"Which, Hogie, you can rectify now with this fifteen city tour,"

"Again with that nickname, Stark,"

"Okay, okay, _Mr. Hogun_ ," he returned, swiveling in his office chair, and hearing Mountain roar through the radio. "But this is a perfect opportunity, you know, to get on England's good side."

"The Beatles and the Rolling Stones have been on the cover, Stark. You can't please the Queen more than that." Hogun deadpanned.

Tony racked his mind for a way to persuade Hogun into letting him cover the concert. Even though he was only a part-timer, who had lied his ass off about both his job experience and age no less (he claimed to be twenty-one, when in reality he was a few months short of his seventeenth birthday), and only written articles about local bands; this was an opportunity of a lifetime.

"But Odin's Sons is the real deal, and if you write up a huge article on their first U.S. tour, well maybe you won't get cockblocked about their future projects."

"And who said we were that invested in Odin's Sons? They might have had one good record, but their longevity is questionable at this point." Hogun insisted, seemingly distracted. "Besides, Lars will be at the first show in L.A.; he has it covered."

"Lars, you mean, Lars Berry who gave _Still Waters Run Deep_ two and a half stars?"

"He's warmed to the record since then, mostly after seeing them play in Manchester last year,"

"Hogie, meet me halfway," Tony leaned forward, studying the lime green phone. "I am the biggest Odin's Sons fan, and if you give me this scoop you will not regret it. I mean, you used six of my concert reports that I submitted free of charge, as an avid reader of the Stone. So you know I'm good for it; hell, I'll do it for half the charge! I'll even buy my own ticket!"

There was a beat of silence on the other end of the phone, before Hogun sighed in a mixture of exasperation and resignation. Tony heard him shift through the, undoubtedly huge, pile of paperwork on his desk; maybe he was looking for his last review he'd written on a female folk-singer whose name eluded him now.

"I'll consider it," Hogun finally replied, although he didn't sound exactly thrilled to be cornered. "But let's focus on that live report; the sooner it's on my desk, the better."

"I hear you loud and clear," Tony returned, aching to get back to his typewriter and blow Hogun's mind; and really it wouldn't be that hard, he was just that gifted in the writing arena. "And I mean it, Hogie; you will not regret a Stark exclusive about Odin's Sons."

"I'm already regretting it, and I'm technically still in the considering process," Hogun muttered, before ending the phone call without a goodbye.

Tony set the receiver back in its cradle, pushing back towards his cluttered desk. His office set-up wasn't anything too extravagant; but really would a sixteen, almost seventeen, year old have a sophisticated office in the basement of his mother's house? No less, a mother that was almost too drunk to notice her kid had gotten a job as a concert reporter for the Rolling fucking Stone?

It didn't hurt either that Tony had a lot of time on his hands, since he graduated at fifteen and was waiting for his old man, a rich son of a bitch who left his mother close to squalor after the divorce, to write a check and send him to the best university in the country. But the old man wanted him to mature a bit, before traversing the American campus, and all their hippie, anti-war bullshit.

That wouldn't have worked for a weapons manufacturer; and said weapons manufacturer didn't need his only son, legitimate at least, getting wrapped up in that anti-war propaganda. Even though, Tony's interests were directed more towards rock 'n roll than politics.

Positioned back in front of typewriter, Tony reached for his previous focus before being bowled over by the Odin's Sons' announcement; and it didn't take very long to refocus his attention back onto Johnny Flies High and their abysmal set. But in the back of his mind, he couldn't help but think about Odin's fucking Sons, and how either way he'd be the one standing in front of center-stage with a notepad and recorder in his pocket. And Lars Berry wasn't about to take it away from him.


	2. Chapter One :: Get the Hell Out of Dodge

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had some fun writing this chapter, and I kind of think this whole story will be that way. So I hope you enjoy it and comments are always appreciated.
> 
> I didn't listen to any particular song while writing this, aside from some Bad Company which doesn't coincide with the year this story takes place in, which is 1971. And well, the Bad Company album didn't come out until 1974. So I suppose you could still listen to it nonetheless, if you wanted to though.

* * *

 

**Chapter One :: Get the Hell Out of Dodge**

 

* * *

 

The ticket was practically burning a hole in his pocket. Hogun had passed it to him, balancing the telephone receiver between his shoulder and ear, while in the midst of a tense conversation with what could have been Pink Floyd's manager; and mouthed the date in which the article was due, before returning his attention completely back onto his telephone conversation, and effectively dismissing him.

The concert was in three days and the anticipation was close to killing Tony. He leaned against the passenger side of the Impala, remembering the exchange, and watching the students spill out of the high school in excited droves. His best friend James Rhodes was amongst the crowd, trying his hardest to fight his way to freedom.

It took several tries, having to wave away several friends that Tony only knew by sight alone; before James raced across the street and towards the Impala. James let out an annoyed huff of breath, before extending his hand to Tony, who slapped it in greeting.

"Rhodey, my man," Tony smiled, attempting to keep his excitement in check. "I haven't seen you in almost a week."

"Some of us have to focus on finals, you know so we can join you on some university campus this fall,"

"Well, you'll be free by next week. By the way, I got some pretty exciting news." He patted his back pocket, where he hurriedly stuffed the ticket into once he left Hogun's office. "Like major news, man."

James shifted his textbooks from underneath one arm to the other, looking borderline suspicious. Of course there was a legitimate reason for that reaction; Tony had said the same thing last year, before effectively blowing up a good portion of the science lab. Dear 'ol dad had to write a huge-ass check to cover the damages, and ensure Tony would graduate on time without the threat of summer school. And that really went over well, since the old man was so concerned with his well-being.

But having a genius son graduating within his age group was more of a disgrace than him blowing up the science lab; which, by the way, set James's afro on fire; and why he now chose to keep his hair neat and short.

"I'll probably regret asking, but I'm going to anyway. What is the big news?" James asked, all the while keeping the suspicion clear on his face.

"Glad you asked; I was really hoping you wouldn't leave me high and dry. Anyway, I got a major assignment from the Stone; and I might have groveled a bit on the altar of Hogie, but I still got a primo assignment."

"What would that be exactly?"

"Odin's Sons, Rhodey; Odin's fucking Sons are going to be in town in three days. I just picked up my ticket from Hogie." He grinned widely, unable to hide his excitement any longer.

"You're actually going to meet Odin's Sons?" James asked; his interest peaked.

Tony's grin dampened; he hadn't even thought about meeting the band. Of course, now that he thought about it, he bet that smug bastard Lars Berry would have gotten an invitation backstage since he was a veteran journalist instead of a part-time schmuck.

Hogun hadn't mentioned anything about a face-to-face interview either. Like he could have said anything, while romancing Pink Floyd's manager or maybe the Allman Brothers'; besides Hogun had even said that the Stone weren't necessarily invested in Odin's Sons.

"No face-to-face sit down," he tried to laugh, but it sounded more like a cough addled with disappointment. "I'm just doing a concert report, you know the usual bullshit."

"Oh, well that's cool too, you know," James patted him on the shoulder. "I mean you're getting to see Odin's Sons live, which is a big deal. Since you practically worship them; I swear if Loki Odinson was a woman, you'd marry him."

"Cut it out," he scowled.

"When you listen to their record, it looks like you've seen the face of God," James laughed, before attempting to nudge Tony out of the way so he could get into the car. "I bet you even touch yourself when you hear _Valhalla_."

"You are so full of shit," Tony pushed himself off the door, letting James slip into the passenger seat. "I touch myself to _All the Kings Men_."

"At least we got that cleared up," James rolled his eyes, leaning out the window. "Now let's get out of here, I was hooked up with the goods."

Tony didn't have to be told twice; he rounded the car, climbing behind the wheel, and revving the Impala to life. The eight-track player came to life and blared Odin's Sons like it always did; James visibly rolled his eyes again, trying to hold back a chuckle after their little exchange.

Offering him a cheeky grin in return, Tony put the Impala in drive and headed for their usual hang-out spot. They hung out at a park only a few miles from the high school, where a good chunk of most kids their age spent their time. Although there had been plenty complaints from parents, pissed that teenagers had taken over the park, and made it unsafe for the younger kids to go.

It hadn't deterred anyone from still going there though, especially on Friday afternoons; which, thankfully it was. There was already people parked side-by-side once Tony pulled up. Several people waved at them, some yelling James's nickname in greeting and others yelling Tony's last name as well.

"And now presenting, for your consideration, a big 'ol bag of weed," Tony declared obnoxiously, as James pulled the baggie out of his shirt pocket.

"You don't have to announce it to the world," James scoffed, before opening up the glove compartment for the rolling papers. "I'm down for sharing, but not with some of those leeches that can't pass around a joint when they have one."

"I hear you brother, oh and it's my favorite self-loving song," Tony guffawed, making it a point to squirm wantonly in his seat, and hum along with the guitar riffs.

James pointedly ignored him, focused on rolling a joint with precision that Tony always found himself envious of. Then again, he was always a bit clumsy and sloppy with things; the only thing he'd managed to perfect was writing and science, when he wasn't actively blowing something up by accident.

The writing thing though, that had been a pastime and somehow grown into a career (or part-time job to be technical); no one was necessarily looking for a sixteen year old scientist. Not even Howard Stark's son would be hired, especially since he did blow up that science lab.

Writing was a safer avenue for the time being; not to mention, it opened up a huge opportunity for him. He was going to see Odin's Sons live in the flesh; and maybe, just maybe he could weasel his way backstage. Girls did it all the time, so they might have some pointers for him if he played nice with them, maybe even lied about putting their names into the article.

Before he could get completely lost in his thoughts, Tony was presented with an immaculately rolled joint which he took between his lips. He fumbled for his bic-lighter that was in the ash tray, and lit the joint and taking a hit. He passed it back to James, before leaning over to turn up the radio.

"Tony Odinson sounds weird," James laughed after several minutes of passing the joint in between them.

"No, that sounds fucking classy," Tony returned.

"Odin's son-in-law,"

"You know, I'd kill you if you didn't know how to roll a killer joint," he scowled, puffing on the joint, and giving a half-hearted wave at some guy whose name he couldn't remember, who was milling around between cars.

But Tony ended up laughing, since suddenly James started to; and they were laughing to near hysterics within a matter of seconds. It took some time for both of them to settle down, lounging into the Impala's seats, while Tony half-hummed along with the song rumbling through the speakers.

"Don't you have to get home soon, man?" James asked, kicking his feet up onto the dashboard.

"Maybe in a while; have to make sure that mommy dearest didn't drown in her own puke. Or bring back the town drunk to be my new daddy,"

"Harsh man,"

"Maria can't be bothered to get her shit together, since Howie decided to leave her for that French model, half her age." He leaned his head back, staring up at the Impala's ceiling. "It's been two years already."

It had been a tough two years, to say the least. Tony's parents had separated and gone through a nasty divorce, which left his mother with him and a couple thousand dollars that had went towards paying off their modest ranch-style house.

It wasn't what a former beauty queen like his mother was used to. Life had been anything but modest for the first fourteen years of his life; although Tony was still given lavish gifts, like the Impala, and trips to Europe when Howie felt generous. Not to mention, he got to spend time at the mansion on holidays; which really fucked with his mother's head that her son got to play house with Colette the French whore.

"Sometimes, I just think about driving," Tony mumbled, squinting up at the rising smoke. "Getting the hell out of Dodge, and saying fuck off to both of them; bye-bye Howie, bye-bye Maria, and bye-bye Colette, you French whore."

"Then do it," James said, sounding strangely serious. "Maybe this is your chance to get the hell out of Dodge. This could be what you need, man."

"What do you mean?"

"Girls run off with bands all the time, but maybe you could too. Not like you'd suck dick or anything; I mean like be a roadie or something. They always need dudes willing to move shit, equipment, you know."

Tony tilted his head, staring at his best friend; but James was focused on looking out windshield. Maybe it was all talk brought on by the weed, since Tony never really talked about getting out. And James wouldn't have even advised him on actually attempting to get out, especially through nefarious means.

He doubted Hogun would be thrilled, if he dropped the article to play roadie. But the reality of the matter was that he definitely couldn't pull the wool over an entire band's eyes about his age. Especially Loki Odinson who was supposed to be a genius like he was; and nothing got past Tony, unless he wanted it to. But it still was nice to dream.

"Hogie would have a heart attack," he chuckled softly. "You know, when he isn't deep throating the Stones or Pink Floyd or Zeppelin or the Allman Brothers' managers."

"Get the hell out of Dodge," James repeated. "Become Mr. Loki Odinson, before one of those groupies gets to him first."

"You are asking for an ass beating,"

"I think you are, Mr. Odinson," James roared with renewed laughter, which set off a chain reaction.

Tony laughed himself hoarse, feeling unbelievably content; which was amplified further by the croon that was Loki Odinson. His voice was dark and deep, practically whispering out the lyrics of the acoustic arrangement of their most popular song _Mischief Abound_.

Truth be told, Tony didn't actually know what Loki, or the rest of the band for that matter, looked like. The Stone hadn't published any photos of them; and he figured the band wouldn't be that receptive after that dismal review they received from Lars Berry. But Tony always figured the guy looked dark and elusive; the kind of guy who could make any girl drop trou; an ability he hadn't mastered by a long shot, but he was by no means a virgin.

"Three days," he muttered under his breath, ignoring the guy who saddled up to the passenger side window to talk to James. "Three days to get the hell out of Dodge."


	3. Chapter Two :: Bright-eyed & Bushy-tailed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I needed to get this posted because today is a very special day - it's David Bowie's 66th birthday. But not only that, he has released a new single today and announced the date for his new album in ten years.
> 
> So I'd recommend listening to any Bowie music while reading this chapter. And starting from the next chapter onward (or so is my intention), the chapters will be named after the fifteen cities that Odin's Sons tour. :)

* * *

 

**Chapter Two :: Bright-eyed & Bushy-tailed**

 

* * *

 

"So when does the gig end?"

"I don't know, I guess when all gigs end," Tony muttered vaguely, tapping his fingers against his knee. "You're in a band, you should know."

"There is a total difference between local bands and major bands," Happy said, barely sparing him a glance. "And don't you have to interview these guys too? Isn't that the protocol for the Stone?"

"Something like that, yeah, so let's say twelve-thirty,"

"Well, you have a long day ahead of you, buddy," Happy grinned, keeping his eyes on the road.

It was seven-thirty in the morning, and Tony figured it was better to get there as early as possible. People were bound to already be on line; and he suspected he'd only be too lucky if he got anywhere near the stage, let alone center-stage.

At least he wouldn't be in the nosebleed section, since Happy was kind enough to give him a lift. Tony wasn't necessarily fond of taking the Impala out during concerts, since most people proved themselves to be maniacs when they were stoned and abuzz with post-concert adrenaline. That was a disaster in the making; and since Happy was still eternally grateful for the write-up Tony did for his band, he frequently dropped him off at gigs; when he wasn't at his own, of course.

"This is the big leagues," Happy piped up again, turning down the radio that was in the midst of playing Hendrix. "Just to think, only three months ago you were writing about my band. Now you're going to be covering a huge event."

"Well, huge is an overstatement," Tony sniffed, feeling the butterflies in his stomach. "Odin's Sons aren't anywhere near Zeppelin or Bowie. But they'll be there, man; they'll fucking be there."

"From how you run your mouth about them, you'd think it was the second coming,"

"It is, for me. Maybe the first coming, actually," he sniffed again, trying to stave away his building anxiety.

There were several reasons why he was nervous, no less excited. He was about to witness his favorite band in person, in the flesh. He was going to finally fulfill a dream of his, since he stumbled across them at the local record store; and he'd finally get to see Loki Odinson beyond the image he conjured up in his mind.

The man himself, his idol, would be in the same room with him. He'd also be singing his favorite songs, strumming on his acoustic guitar that accompanied Thor Odinson's electric one. Tony would actually get to see the two siblings, side-by-side, bringing to life the songs that he loved unequivocally.

But the thing that was most troubling about the experience of a lifetime was pushing it beyond the performance. Tony was determined to have a face-to-face meeting with Odin's Sons. He wanted to stare Loki Odinson in the eyes, and tell him point-blank how the Rolling Stone were, in fact, invested into Odin's Sons and that Lars Berry was a fucking puke. And he wanted to shake the man's hand that changed his entire, fucked-up existence.

"You need to chill, buddy," Happy eyed him, while coming to a halt at a red light. "You're going to be on line for at least twelve hours, if not more. So for your sake, I'd look for a guy with some herb."

"I'm good, man. I'll be as cool as ice, by the time the show rolls around." He lied, since he still had to figure out how he was going to get backstage, without having to suck a roadie's dick for access.

Of course, his best chance of success was to sweeten up the girls who knew the ropes. The veteran groupies, who could barely list the many musicians they spent the night with. Tony needed to find the ones whose job was literally to fuck rock stars; not the ones who were at their first rodeo. He needed the professionals' help, if he even had a chance in hell to get backstage.

His mind was already working overtime, to the point that he hardly registered the fact that Happy had pulled up to the curb in front of the venue. It took several moments for him to process the scene, more so to understand why Happy was practically shoving him out of the car.

"No one's in line, fuck-face," Happy laughed, giving him a mighty shove coupled with Tony opening the passenger door, which almost sent him to the sidewalk. "And some pretty young things are about to trample their way to the front of the line, if you don't get your ass in gear!"

That was the only motivation Tony needed; he staggered forward, clinging to his shoulder bag, and bolted towards the ticket master. The girls that Happy mentioned, let out a collective wail, but couldn't possibly traverse the distance thanks to their oversized platform shoes. So when Tony skidded to a stop, officially the first in line, he almost reveled in their moans of disappointment.

"Twelve-thirty, no later, buddy," Happy yelled out the window at him, giving him a quick wave. "If you're late, you'll have to take the bus home."

Before he had a chance to reply, Happy pulled away from the curb, and already merged with the morning traffic, leaving him with the downtrodden and visibly annoyed girls in hot pants and floppy hats. They approached him and looked torn between cussing him out or actually attempting to build some kind of camaraderie with him for the next twelve hours on line.

One of the shorter girls with long burgundy colored hair and wearing oversized Elvis-like sunglasses suddenly approached him and held out her hand to him. Tony was immediately wary of the gesture, but he took her hand nonetheless, returning the firm shake that she offered.

"I'm Natasha," she introduced herself with the hint of an accent. "And these are my friends Maria and Peggy."

"Tony," he returned, feeling slightly off balanced; usually he didn't have a problem speaking with these sorts of girls, but he could tell right away they were the ones he was looking for.

It wasn't hard to spot out a groupie, not by a long shot. But the type of girl he was looking for wasn't as visible, unless you were in the presence of one of them. They had an aura all of their own; they were no nonsense but playfully seductive. And these girls were after one thing and one thing only – backstage access to Odin's Sons.

Natasha appeared to be the alpha in the pack, in which case meant she was after the biggest fish in the band. She was after Loki Odinson; therefore she was the one he'd have to butter up, in order to take advantage of her particular set of skills.

"Not many people have been ahead of me on line," she slipped her hand from his, looking subtly impressed. "So you must be a big fan of Odin's Sons."

"The biggest," he affirmed, before blurting out, "but I'm also a reporter, so I wanted to get a good place in front of the stage."

"Aren't you a little young to be a reporter?" One of the other girls asked, Tony didn't know which.

"I just look young for my age," he lied flawlessly, before redirecting his attention onto Natasha. "So you must be a huge Odin's Sons fan too."

"A huge Loki Odinson fan," she supplied, without any hint of embarrassment.

That was pretty much an admission of what her intentions were, which also meant that they would be actively fighting one another for the perfect spot in front of the stage. Unless, of course, they came to a sort of understanding; and Tony was willing to compromise, if she could work her magic to get him backstage.

Tony didn't know exactly how he was going to convince Natasha to help him out; but since they had twelve whole hours to get to know one another, he figured he could come up with something. Or maybe she'd just help a part-time reporter, who was starry-eyed about Loki Odinson, in a totally different sense than she was. He wasn't any competition to her and she probably already knew it.

"We might as well get comfortable," Natasha suggested, sinking down onto the pavement. "Unlike some bands, I don't think Odin's Sons are the types to mingle before the show. Then again, that's all hearsay."

Tony followed her lead, as did the other girls. They sat down and were basically at a standstill; the other girls were quick to chat about who they had eyes for, although they both seemed to keep the name Loki Odinson off their lips, as if they feared provoking Natasha.

The conversation was absolutely dull; it felt like a small eternity passed by, since it began and there appeared no end in sight. Tony figured if he had to sit through twelve hours' worth of pointless, unintelligent conversation like this, well he might actually go insane before the doors to the venue even opened.

Sometime in between the girls comparing Thor Odinson's eyes to Fandral's, no surname mentioned, he began to zone off. He pointedly ignored the look Natasha was shooting his way, and instead reflected on his pot-addled conversation with James. The one where he mentioned getting the hell out of L.A. and touring cross-country with the band; even if only temporarily.

But he didn't have much time to explore the thought, since someone had approached and was now looming over him. He jerked his head up to stare at another girl with long flowing brown hair, with a large brim hat; she wore clothes similar to the three he was in company with, but she looked so much livelier in comparison. And Tony would have been lying if he didn't fall in love a little at first sight.

"You're out bright and early, even a little bushy-tailed, daddy-o," the girl offered with a cheeky grin, before crouching down beside him. "Don't tell me you're already on line for the show tonight."

Tony swallowed hard, directing his eyes to stare at her reddish-brown cowboy boots; but he found it hard to ignore the smooth skin of her pale legs, which hadn't seen sunlight in ages. She definitely wasn't a California girl; or maybe she was newly implanted, either way she wasn't from the Golden State.

"I wanted to be front-row, center-stage," he admitted, almost meekly which made him want to hurl.

"To see a quartet of pasty white Englishmen?" She asked, and this time he had to look at her and the amusement dancing in her eyes. "You have a lot more devotion than me. They probably wouldn't even believe it."

"They should, they are an excellent band," Natasha retorted, borderline venomous.

The brown haired girl studied her with an unreadable expression, before she smiled brightly once more. Tony didn't exactly understand women as well as he would have liked, but from what he did know, was that look was both scathing and catty. Just another subtle way that women used to insult one another.

And his hypothesis was proven correctly and almost immediately. The brown haired girl leaned towards him, to the point where he could smell something akin to sunflowers on her; probably some hair product that helped make her hair shine that brilliantly; before whispering into his ear.

"Being a fan of a band is different than being a fan of cock," she pulled away with a sweet smile, which was taken as it was intended to.

Natasha and her two friends shot hateful looks at the brunette, even though they hadn't a clue what she had said. But Tony didn't want to get involved in a catfight; not when he had his own problems to deal with. And it was a lose-lose situation if he decided to intervene; so he wisely kept his mouth shut, and his features neutral.

His lack of action however cost him a worthy ally; Natasha promptly turned her back to him, in a not so subtle way of telling him to fuck off. Already exasperated, but beyond the point of groveling, Tony just shook his head as the girls began their conversation about the band members again. But this time they willingly broached the topic of Loki Odinson, since Natasha was now a part of the conversation.

The brown haired girl was still smiling, unaffected by the cold shoulder; then again, she clearly wasn't about to spend twelve hours on line either. She stood from her crouch, readjusting her hat, and making a point to pat Tony on the head like he was a dog.

"I'll see you around, daddy-o," she winked, which caused his heart to flutter.

"Wait, you're not staying?" He blurted out, which caused the trio of girls to laugh at him condescendingly.

"I prefer the back of the theater, better view,"

"I'm Tony," he returned almost as if an afterthought, and felt even stupider than he had beforehand.

"Amelia," she winked again, before petting his head again, and leaning down so she spoke into his ear. "But my friends call me Sif or Siffy, and since I like you daddy-o, you can call me either one you like."

Tony gaped, wondering why that nickname sounded pretty damn familiar; but for whatever reason, his brain wasn't up to par at such an early hour. Not to mention, he was already a part of a cold war between the hot, young groupies who would make it a problem to get the primo spot that he wanted.

Just as he was about to inquire about it, Amelia or rather Sif or Siffy was already on the move. She waved at him, still smiling that smile that made him fall deeper in love; and was around the street corner before he could even will his mouth into action. And he wasn't so stupid that he'd go after her, not when the piranhas were already shooting him looks that would have left a lesser person dead.

No way, no how was he moving. Not even God himself could get him to move. Hell, John Lennon and Yoko Ono could have shown up with promises of adoption and the finest weed anyone had ever grown; and he would have to say sorry and pass on the generous offer.

Letting out a sigh, Tony ignored the snide remarks that the groupies shared amongst themselves. He would figure a way backstage somehow, and he would be center-stage, even if he had to latch himself to the stage or even Loki Odinson's leg.

God willing it didn't escalate to that point.


	4. Chapter Three :: Los Angeles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoy this chapter; as always reviews are appreciated (and make me very happy).

* * *

 

**Chapter Three :: Los Angeles**

 

* * *

 

By seven o'clock sharp, Tony had reconciled with Natasha. The icebreaker had been the box of candy Tony had tossed into his messenger bag, alongside his tape recorder and notepad; and since groupies were not known for their survivalist skills, his selflessness paid off in spades.

The tension between them had all but dissipated, and they had agreed upon sharing the spot in front of Loki Odinson; which meant Tony had to shield Natasha from the handsy drunkards and stoners in the crowd; and in return for his services, she would schmooze the staff into letting him backstage as well.

Natasha had hooked her arm through his, while holding onto Maria's hand who held onto Peggy's. They were a united front, but if Tony had to leave the other two behind in the fray, he was more than willing to make that sacrifice. As long as Natasha was saved from the stampede that was the only thing that mattered to him.

The line had grown significantly larger throughout the day, and rumbles of impatience were growing louder and louder. Several people began to chant the band's name, while others shouted uncoordinated things, demanding to be let into the theater.

Tony too found himself growing impatient; but in the very least his adrenaline kicked in, derailing any fatigue he might have felt from sitting for so long on the pavement. And luckily once he had made up with Natasha; she did save his spot on line so he could run across the street to use the bathroom at a laundry mat.

"Head for the stage, no pit stops," Natasha murmured in his ear, clutching his arm tighter. "Normally, they'll let half the crowd in first, so no one gets trampled. But realistically, these morons can't control an overexcited crowd like this one."

"Got it," he returned, attempting to see what was happening behind the theater's doors; but the small diamond shaped windows, only revealed someone walking back and forth in front of them.

The disgruntled yells increased by a tenfold, and effectively putting Tony further on edge. His stomach did several unpleasant flip-flops, while still staring at the diamond shaped windows, and the figure that kept pacing in front of them. He shoved a hand through his thick and unruly hair, probably making a bigger mess of it than it already was; but he didn't necessarily give a shit. He wasn't trying to deep-throat Loki Odinson like Natasha, who'd been touching up her makeup half an hour earlier.

After what felt like a small eternity, someone shoved one of the theater's doors open, followed by a gaggle of other individuals: bouncer-types. Some wore black tees plastered with the word _staff_ on the back, while others wore tour tees with Odin's Sons' emblem, two helmets, one with wings on the side and other goat-like horns, across the front of the shirt.

Tony tensed for a split-second, only moving towards the door when Natasha urged him to. He had barely noticed that one of the bouncers had motioned him forward, ready to accept the ticket he, at least, remembered to present.

When both he and Natasha got clearance, he didn't hesitate to yank her into the theater, and breaking her hold on Maria. Luckily she didn't protest and allowed him to drag her through the lobby, past the merchandise table, and into the oversized room where the stage was housed.

He drug Natasha the rest of the way to the stage, parking both of them center-stage in front of the barricade that ran along the front of it. Natasha let out a huff of laughter, before offering him a half-smile; from his brief acquaintanceship with her, Tony noticed she wasn't one to actually smile very big or even to laugh very loudly either.

"Eager, are we?" She asked; only to turn around and wave at her friends. "And just for the record, Maria looks positively lethal right now."

"Too bad," he returned in a hushed, almost reverent tone.

Almost on cue, Maria barreled over still attached to Peggy; alongside an innumerable amount of people that were in the business of finding a good spot for the show. But the angry dark-haired girl demanded attention, and not just because she was wearing bright red daisy dukes and looked pretty stellar despite that nasty look on her face.

"You asshole, what was that?" Maria snapped, turning a shade of color that matched her shorts. "We had a deal!"

"For one, we did not have a deal. I had a deal with Natasha. And two, why does it matter? You get to flutter your eyelashes at on your side of the stage all you want. No harm, no foul." He rolled his eyes.

Maria called him another colorful insult, albeit it didn't have its desired effect. His eyes were pinned onto the stage, head abuzz with the reality of the moment. Within forty-five minutes, maybe even less, Loki Odinson would be in front of his very eyes; no longer an illusion, or a figure he conjured up in his mind to match the voice, the lyrics – but the actual person.

His heart thrummed wildly, almost too preoccupied to realize that Natasha crouched down beside him, and slithered in front of him, back plastered against his chest. He blinked several times; temporarily unsure of what was going on, before remembering their deal.

"Right, human barrier," he said to no one in particular, before gripping onto the barricade, and caging her in between his arms.

Before very long, the oversized room was filled with hundreds of bodies. The smell of weed and alcohol intermingled in the air, not to mention colognes of all types and the prevalent stench of body odor as well. Tony would forever, no doubt, always associate it with live shows; this was what concerts were meant to smell like.

The unnecessary and unwanted bodily contact was another thing that he'd always associate with concerts. Someone was already pressed uncomfortably close to him from behind, and there was further contact on either side of him as well. But any annoyance that he might have felt was soon replaced by gratitude, when the guy on his back offered a joint with the message to pass it on.

Tony took a hit, offering it to Natasha who automatically accepted it, and passed along to the person to their left. Maria and Peggy had gone to either side of the stage, in order to ogle either Fandral or Thor Odinson; and now Tony couldn't even spot them in the crowd, which was fine by him. The less squawking about whose eyes were bluer, the better.

Soon enough the lights were lowered halfway, welcoming the opening band onstage. Several people in the crowd whistled and yelled out words of encouragement, as the band settled in front of their instruments, and began to play what Tony could only describe as a horrendous set of psychedelic, avant-garde bullshit.

He wasn't even close to being stoned, let alone stoned enough to enjoy what they were playing. Thankfully someone else passed him a joint, which he took full advantage of, and passed to Natasha like he had before. Although, he began to immediately regret his decision since he didn't want to be a mess by the time Odin's Sons was onstage.

In the very least, it made that unnamed band far more entertaining, and made their set go by far quicker than it would have if he were dead sober. But even being slightly stoned couldn't stop him from gasping in anticipation as the roadies with the Odin's Sons tee-shirts came onto the stage, and began to dismantle the opening band's gear (with their help, of course), and start setting up for the main event.

The crowd began to make loud and impatient noises, as they had while on line. Natasha was compelled to join in, practically demanding that Loki Odinson get his ass on the stage right then and now; lest she do something drastic, and Tony could imagine her doing something drastic if she didn't get her way; which included not having Loki Odinson mouth-fuck her close to death.

Tony tensed as one particularly burly roadie began to set-up a microphone stand in front of him; and all his anxiety was suddenly upon him again. He felt almost sick, which was perpetuated by the concert smells around him.

He braced himself against the barricade further, and unfortunately plastered himself way too familiarly against Natasha's back. She didn't seem to mind though, still in the midst of screaming for Loki Odinson like a madwoman.

Similarly other women in the crowd began to scream in high-pitched, wanton voices; they increased a tenfold as the final preparation for the show took place, and the roadies were leisurely walking off the stage. Some of them even waved obnoxiously at the crowd, which earned them boos and vulgar hand gestures.

But the mob mentality soon quieted, almost to the point of it being eerie. The room suddenly delved into complete darkness, before a rainbow of colored lights twinkled to life. And then there were several shadows striding onto the stage; one gargantuan figure who settled behind the drum-kit, another tall and lanky one who settled onto the left side of the stage, while a muscular one went to the right side.

Tony's breath hitched as a tall and lanky silhouette moved to the microphone stand, only an arm's length away from him. Without any warning his senses were assaulted by a mixture of drums and guitar, so loud and overpowering that he couldn't help but cringe; until he realized the melody, and felt his blood boil in elation.

The reddish hue that had encompassed the stage; ebbed away to natural light just as Loki Odinson belted out the lyrics to _All the Kings Men_. His hands were wrapped around the microphone stand and the microphone simultaneously, tapping his foot to the rhythm of the music, which made Natasha scream shrilly.

Standing at the microphone was no ordinary man; Loki Odinson superseded the many images Tony conjured up in his mind. They didn't do the man any justice; not the man dressed in bell-bottom jeans and deep blue oxford that exposed his collarbone, and whose hair was jet-black and flipped immaculately at the nape of his neck.

His eyes were an electrifying green that Tony hadn't ever seen before; and his features were aquiline and elegant on the verge of total perfection. Hell, Tony was convinced at that very moment as Loki Odinson sang with all his might into the microphone that he was the personification of perfection.

It was a _come to Jesus_ moment, probably the first he'd ever experienced. Not even the weed in his system could hinder what he was experiencing; nothing could have hindered the way Loki Odinson belted into the microphone, leaning back and swaying with the music, and the soul-shattering way in which his lips parted to smile and expose his perfectly straight teeth.

The rest of the band was inconsequential to him; they were only back-up musicians, could have been studio musicians; since they couldn't even drag Tony's eyes away from Loki. Nothing could have; not even if Howie and Maria were set on fire, and were begging him to extinguish the flames.

Tony felt like he'd been hypnotized; with each passing song, his gaze remained firmly implanted onto Loki. Even when Thor Odinson took up lead vocals on one of their more obscure songs, and Loki took up his acoustic guitar in accompaniment; Tony could only stare at the raven-haired man, no _god_.

There was no other way to describe Loki Odinson; he couldn't possibly be human. Godhood, demon-hood even, only seemed befitting for someone of his caliber. His voice, his gestures, the way he strummed his guitar, those weren't humanly features. They were too lucid, smooth, and elegant; no one could possibly be that way; no one.

But what cemented that fact, irrevocably so, was when the stage darkened again. Only to be illuminated, deserted aside from Loki, who was sitting on a stool with his acoustic guitar in his lap. His gaze roved across the crowd, as if desperately searching for something but clearly coming up short. And Tony didn't realize how much he wanted those eyes to be on him until that very moment.

"Hello, Los Angeles," Loki hummed into the microphone, while experimentally strumming on his guitar. "My name is Loki Odinson, and before I let you go I want to play you a song. Cover song, mind you; I want to play you _Letter to Hermione_ by David Bowie."

The room had gone quiet again, listening reverently to the soft and emotional-addled voice that rose from Loki. Tony felt his whole body tense, seized by a slew of emotions that he really couldn't describe properly. In fact, it was almost terrifying that he could feel so much, when he generally kept those things at bay.

And yet he was consumed by everything, greedily drinking in every movement and word that Loki played and sang. Then without any warning, those green eyes paused on him; but they didn't fleet away within seconds. Those eyes remained on him, curious and inquiring, and stripping him bare; they froze him to the spot, even as Natasha squirmed against him, realizing where Loki's gaze had landed on.

Too soon they drifted away, as did the song. Blackness consumed the stage once more; however, there was nothing to be seen once the lights flickered on. Loki Odinson had dissipated into nothingness, only leaving behind the vibration in the crowd's ears, and irreversible want that certainly had befallen everyone in the room.

Tony couldn't possibly be the only one who'd fallen under Loki Odinson's enchantment. And he felt like a nerve exposed, exposed to those venomous green eyes which drew him out of reality so wholly, and onto a whole other plane of existence.

But it couldn't last forever, no matter how much he wanted it to. Especially not when an aggressive burgundy-haired groupie elbowed him in the solar plexus, and made him double over.


	5. Chapter Four :: Los Angeles II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's another chapter; I've been having a lot of fun writing this (and probably the reason behind the speedy updates). But I'm also trying to focus on cleaning up the chapters, catching typos and grammar errors. Knowing me though, there are probably a slew left; in which I apologize in advanced.
> 
> And a shout-out to akuma_river for always being a wonderful reviewer and listening to my blather. I really do appreciate it! :DD

* * *

 

**Chapter Four :: Los Angeles II**

 

* * *

 

Tony sat on the curb, notepad balanced on his knee, and cursing inwardly at Happy and Natasha alike. It was close to one-thirty in the morning and his evening had gone abruptly sour. Natasha had easily persuaded a roadie into letting her backstage, promising Tony until she was blue in the face that she'd come back for him; which turned out to be a blatant lie.

He'd waited for a good half hour, before giving up to curb-sit instead and wait for Happy. It had been twelve-twenty then, so he was well within his time frame; but Happy hadn't shown up and had yet to show up, giving him ample time to jot down the finer points of the concert.

Only that reawakened the resentment he felt towards Natasha. At that very moment, she could have been with Loki Odinson, on her knees no less; and for some reason that made him even angrier. Maybe it was because Sif or Siffy's words resonated with him; that Natasha wasn't even a fan of Odin's Sons but was just out to fuck any musician within her path.

Tony hadn't really spoken to Natasha in length about Odin's Sons, which was odd in retrospect. Then again, they had been at an impasse for several hours and when they had spoken it was about getting in the front of the stage. So he really couldn't say definitively if Natasha was a real fan or just a groupie; either way, she still screwed him over.

"Son of a bitch," Tony heaved, slapping his pencil flat against his notepad; it was apparent that Happy wouldn't actually show up for him, and he wasn't really receptive to taking the bus.

No one would be willing to pick him up either. His mother probably didn't even know he was out of the house, and dear 'ol dad would sooner stop manufacturing weaponry before he'd come and pick him up in downtown Los Angeles.

So his options were limited; the only sane one would to be to find the closest bus stop. But that was the least appealing one, and the bus wouldn't necessarily get him home. It could have gotten him within walking distance, which he wasn't up for either.

Hitchhiking seemed like the best course of action, and it wouldn't be very hard to get someone to pick him up. Once he finally decided what to do, Tony flipped his notepad closed and tossed it along with his pencil back into his messenger bag.

"Kind of late to be enjoying the sights, daddy-o," Sif suddenly approached from behind, sinking onto the curb beside him. "Not to mention a laundry mat and shoe shop isn't the best sights in California."

Tony turned to look at her; she was dressed differently than that morning. Her hair was pulled back into ponytail and she looked strangely fresh-faced for it being that early in the morning. She wore an Odin's Sons tee-shirt, denim shorts, and the same cowboy boots when they first encountered one another.

"Oh I don't know, they kind of speak to me," he returned. "Especially when your ride totally fucked you over,"

"So you're stranded," she stated more than asked.

"If you want to call it that, which I would,"

"I saw you writing just a while ago. Don't worry, I'm not stalking you, daddy-o; I was coming from over there." Sif pointed to her right, before wrapping her arms around her knees, and tilting her head so she could observe him better.

Tony laughed abruptly, thinking he'd only be too lucky to get a girl like her to stalk him. Although, he wasn't exactly lacking in the girl department; he'd been called handsome hundreds of times, and had enough girlfriends at that age to know that it wasn't that farfetched.

"Just jotting down my thoughts about the show; I have to write a live report."

"A live report, so that would make you a reporter?" Sif appeared as if her interest was piqued.

"Yeah, I had to bend over backwards to get the gig from my boss,"

"Who do you write for, daddy-o? Some school newspaper, a small-time one maybe? What are we talking about?"

"Ever heard of a little magazine called the Rolling Stone?" Tony wriggled his eyebrows, which only seemed to scare away his new friend.

Sif stood from the curb, putting her hands onto her hips. He stared up at her, trying to gage her reaction; he just hadn't predicted for her to grab for his arm and urge him onto his feet. He staggered into standing, giving her a questioning look.

"Follow me, daddy-o," she said in means of an explanation.

Reluctantly Tony followed after her; she rounded the corner, the same one she had earlier in the day and led him several paces before taking an abrupt turn into an alley. He had the good sense to pause outside of it, question if he should even follow a complete and utter stranger, and finally drew to the conclusion it was equally as safe as hitchhiking and quickly raced after her.

Sif led him through several back alleys, until they reached an open area that ran behind a block of buildings. On further inspection, Tony realized they were behind the theater that the concert had taken place in; no less, there were several roadies in the midst of rolling cargo from the back of the theater and onto a series of trucks.

Farther away from the activity stood a tour bus; Tony gaped in sudden realization that he was led directly to the Holy Grail. He hadn't had to make any consensus with anybody, didn't even have to suck a dick; he simply had to sit on the curb, looking pathetic and grumpy, and someone had taken pity on his soul.

Wordlessly he followed after Sif again, who was headed for the tour bus. The roadies hardly spared them a look as they walked by; no one even questioned why they were back there, which kicked in Tony's paranoia for a split-second. But he didn't even have time to overthink it, before Sif was yanking open the bus's door and started to mount the steps.

"Come on, daddy-o," she called over her shoulder, which spurred him to climb the steps after her.

The tour bus was smoky and smelled of cheap leather and cigarette smoke. It was dark too like some sort of cave on wheels; but there were noises, human noises in the back of the bus. Sif continued to lead him along, as if she owned the place.

Tony looked back and forth, from one corner of the bus to the next. There was a small kitchenette to one side and across the way a table and booth. Further into the bus were several bunk-beds with curtains either thrown open or closed.

Abruptly Sif stopped, yanking open a bottom bunk's curtains, only to reveal Natasha throat deep on a guy's cock. Tony vaguely recalled it was the bassist for Odin's Sons, Fandral; the guy should have in the very least looked a bit scandalized that Sif ripped open the curtains, and was now staring indignantly at him, but he only offered her a sheepish grin.

"Where is Thor?" She asked, paying little attention to the way Fandral laid his hand on the back of Natasha's skull, once she tried to pull away and probably go lethal on their asses.

"Outside, those two are at it again," Fandral managed to say, despite the compromising position he was in.

"I should have known," Sif returned, closing the curtains shut.

"Explain to me something, Siffy. Why are you with that kid?" Fandral called out, even as Sif was pushing Tony back the way they came.

"Oh, he's only a writer for the Rolling Stone. And he's going to write a huge spread on how you like your cock sucked by cheap redheads." She smirked at Tony, still urging him to the front of the bus.

Tony took it upon himself to climb out of the bus, suddenly very confused by what he'd just saw. After all, he'd spent at least fifteen hours with an overly ambitious groupie who seemed to be determined to bed Loki Odinson. But instead, she was blowing the bassist; he would have vocalized his confusion, had it not been for Sif scourging the area in search of Thor.

It didn't take particularly long to find the person in question. Thor was tall and muscular, and looked if he wanted to rip someone's head off. His hand was wrapped around the neck of a beer bottle and was in the midst of pacing like a caged animal. He only stopped once he caught sight of them, inquiring with a raise of an eyebrow.

"You two were at it again," Sif stated blandly, having the gall to yank the beer bottle out of his hand and overturn it. "So where did he go?"

"He's already on his way to San Francisco with some of the crew," Thor scowled, none too pleased, or so it seemed, by the loss of his beer.

"And what were you fighting about this time around?"

"Before I say anything, who the hell is that?" Thor pointed at him, still looking mean.

"That's my new friend, um, Tony?" Sif looked at Tony for confirmation; he nodded, which compelled her to continue. "Yeah, Tony; he is a writer for Rolling Stone, and he is in the business of writing a spread about the band. So I figured he should interview you guys; but since the crowned prince already left, well that dampens things."

"The Rolling Stone wasn't very kind about our record," Thor glowered, as if Tony was the one responsible for Lars fucking Berry's dismal review.

"That would have been Lars Berry," Tony supplied, sounding strangely calm with all things considering. "He's a dickhead, whose head is so far up Greg Allman's ass he can taste what he had for dinner. Trust me when I say I want to write a huge fucking article on you guys, and let the Stone's readers know just who's going to dominate the scene very soon."

Thor continued to glower at Tony, and he was sure that he blabbed way too much. And this guy didn't look like the talking type; he came off more like: _I'll kick your ass, if you try and pull your fucking wit on me_.

Tony inwardly cursed him, but was thrown through a loop when the big guy laughed like a clap of thunder. It was loud and borderline jubilant; nowhere as intimidating as his looks. Before he knew it, Thor slapped a hand across his back with a grin.

"I like you," Thor laughed again, looking to Sif. "Sif, I always wondered what you did when you wandered off. And you found us a Rolling Stone reporter."

"But like I said, it'll put a damper on things with Loki already gone," Sif rolled her eyes. "Sorry, daddy-o."

Despite having come face-to-face with not one, but two members of Odin's Sons; Tony couldn't help but feel disappointed. Loki Odinson wasn't even there; he was already headed to San Francisco, and Tony didn't have a chance to say a goddamn word to him. No wonder Natasha was sucking off Fandral.

Trying to mask his disappointment, he smiled tightly and was about to explain how he could just write the live report, rather than do an interview; which was his original assignment anyway. But Thor had wrapped a bulky arm around his shoulders and was directing him back towards the tour bus.

"That can be remedied," Thor said which caused Sif to huff. "You'll just have to interview all of us in San Francisco."

"Even though that sounds great, I don't have any way to get to San Francisco. Not to mention I don't have a ticket; this was kind of supposed to be a one night gig." Tony explained, before he and Thor drew to a halt.

"So you thought so little of us that one show would have sufficed?"

"With all due respect, I am a huge Odin's Sons fan. I had to beg my ass to get this assignment; and well, I'm technically only supposed to write a live review. But I wanted a sit down; I wanted to write up a huge article that'll have the Stone bending over backwards to get you on the cover." He admitted, verging on meekly since the giant still had an arm around him, and could crush his head like a grape.

"Fair enough," Thor muttered, continuing again towards the tour bus. "Then you'll just have to come with us. And two shows will not be enough to write an appropriate article."

The implication was pretty clear – Thor Odinson, leader of Odin's Sons, wanted him to write an article on the band. But not only that, he actually invited him on tour; to write a comprehensive, in-depth article that would really showcase them. Comparably to a bit piece, which most readers would skim over before forgetting all about what they read two seconds later.

Tony gaped again, stunned stupid. While he had grandiose dreams about going on tour with his favorite band, especially after his conversation with James; never in a million years would he have suspected that it would happen. That he would actually be welcomed with open arms to come on tour with them; although Tony suspected Thor might have been more than a little drunk.

Before he could intervene, Tony caught sight of Sif who simply shook her head, as if to deter him from shooting himself in the foot. Or maybe she was doing a favor for Thor; either way he didn't speak up. Regardless if Thor was drunk or even if Sif wanted him to keep quiet for her own selfish reasons; Tony too had a selfish reason to keep his mouth shut and that was Loki Odinson.

He had to meet Loki Odinson one way or the other, which meant going along with whatever Thor suggested. Even though, he only had his messenger bag and fair amount of change that inevitably would sustain him for a few weeks; Tony climbed onto the bus with Thor, and was somehow fulfilling a dream that he'd never thought he would – he was now officially on tour with Odin's Sons.


	6. Chapter Five :: San Francisco

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a filler chapter, you know to get some of the pressing matters out of the way. But we'll be back and running full speed ahead by the next chapter. :)
> 
> As always I hope you enjoy, and reviews are always welcomed.

* * *

 

**Chapter Five :: San Francisco**

 

* * *

 

Waking up in a foreign place wasn't exactly new to Tony. It was, however, the first time that he woke up in a cramped bunk-bed on a tour bus, which had rolled into San Francisco sometime during the wee morning hours.

The smell of cigarette smoke was strong in his nostrils, alongside some kind of spicy food. He rolled onto his side, before blearily reaching for the closed curtains, and sliding them open. There was very little light on the back of the bus; probably because most rock bands were recovering from hangovers during a good portion of their tours, and he had a vague idea that Thor Odinson would be too.

Once Thor had escorted Tony back onto the tour bus, and Fandral had kicked Natasha unceremoniously off it despite her vehement protests (even trying so lowly to get Tony on her side); the band leader began drinking everything in sight. Fandral and Volstagg joined him, enthused by the fact that Tony wanted to write up a huge article on them.

Luckily they hadn't questioned why he hadn't been drinking; although the assumption he needed to be sober to get the scoop was more than efficient. Tony, of course, had had his fair share of alcohol before, hence waking up in foreign places; but he wasn't an elegant drunk, and probably would have given himself away when it came to his age.

He was almost positive that they broached that topic, sometime in between Thor belting out several songs, and Volstagg having quite a fit over the lack of food on the bus. He was just happy that they were the type of people who weren't very inquisitive; it wasn't to say that they weren't bright, but details weren't their forte per se.

Glad that he'd taken refuge on one of the lower bunks, Tony staggered onto his feet. He was still clothed in yesterday's outfit, scuffed up tennis shoes included; which would explain why he was stiff and in no way rested. He felt like he might have been experiencing a hangover of his own, even if he hadn't touched a drop of alcohol. But he had spent twelve hours on the pavement, almost three and a half on his feet, and an hour back on the pavement. So it was justifiable to a degree.

Slowly he crept towards the front of the bus, following the stench of food and cigarettes only to find Sif sitting at the booth across from the kitchenette. She was in the midst of eating something from a Styrofoam container but paused once she saw him.

She smiled at him, motioning him to the other side of the booth, and he gratefully took up the offer to sit. He huffed and eyed the still smoking cigarette in its ceramic ashtray, before turning his attention back onto her as she shoveled some sort of noodles into her mouth.

"You're going to kick yourself, daddy-o," Sif said around her food.

"For sleeping in my clothes, hell yeah," Tony tried to crack his neck to no avail.

"More like you woke up ten minutes too late," she returned, eyes glistening with amusement. "You just missed Loki; he was actually in the same place as Thor for a whole hour without trying to upturn anything. Then again, Thor was asleep."

Tony paused and stared at Sif like she'd grown a second head. The fact that Loki Odinson had only been several feet away from him again, but this time without his knowledge; well that gave him the sudden urge to rip out his own hair.

The only person he wanted to meet was easily avoiding him without even trying. It wasn't like it was a conscious decision on Loki Odinson's part; he didn't even know him to want to avoid him. Unless he didn't have a predilection to reporters, especially ones aligned with Rolling Stone magazine. The same magazine who had written that Loki's vocals were oftentimes lackluster and a failed attempt to capture Bowie's essence; Lars fucking Berry really took Odin's Sons to town with that review.

"Don't worry, daddy-o," Sif drew him out of his thoughts, before pushing the container and her fork in his direction. "He'll be back; he just needed to cool down. He went to sightsee, which is an excellent idea. I've never been to San Francisco."

"Where are you from anyway?" Tony asked, oblivious to his own hunger until her half-eaten food was in front of him.

"That's hard to answer. I'm from everywhere; army brat."

"How did you hook up with Odin's Sons? I mean you're obviously connected." He dug into the noodles that were seasoned with spices that set his mouth on fire; but he was lucky that she set an unopened can of cola in front of him, as if she could read his mind.

"My family lives in Essex now," she smiled that smile, the same one that made Tony feel lightheaded and kind of stupid. "Easy to latch onto some pasty Englishmen when you live in Essex,"

"You're pasty too," he said as if an afterthought, which made her laugh.

"Touché," Sif ground the cigarette in the ashtray until it was extinguished. "We have a motel room, you know for the essentials. So once you finish, you can catch a shower, and we'll go explore. Then you'll eventually get a chance to interview them."

"You mean Loki Odinson too?" He coughed, before reaching for the cola and popping it open. "Or are our existences on parallel planes, never to intersect,"

Sif laughed again in a way that gave him goose bumps; he looked away from her and tried not to blush, which would be mortifying for him. Especially since he was playing a twenty-one year old Rolling Stone reporter, not some starry-eyed sixteen year old that he truly was.

Hogun had always said his biggest weakness was his lack of professionalism; he frequently allowed his opinion and personality to outshine the pieces he wrote. Then again, that's why he was invaluable; it was an up and coming sort of journalism that both irked Hogun and fascinated him as well; but mostly it irked him, especially if Tony only insulted a musician without any subtlety attached.

"You'll meet him," Sif assured. "Now eat up, so we can get a move on. You don't want to be here when those guys wake up from their hangovers. They're worse than babies."

Tony ate the majority of the noodles and sucked down his cola in record time. The thought of a hot shower was foremost in his mind, well behind meeting Loki Odinson anyway. He had to figure that the shower was more of a probability now, especially if Loki just left no more than twenty minutes earlier.

Within a matter of minutes, Sif led him off of the bus and into an empty lot. The tour bus was parked behind the venue and several work trucks were already being unloaded by roadies. They soon exited the lot and stepped onto a busy street; the sound hit Tony like a freight train, and for the briefest of moments he felt self-conscious. He probably looked like a mess, which wasn't common for a CEO's son like him.

They weaved their way through the eclectic crowd; Sif was strangely confident for never being there before, although Tony had to assume she located the motel sometime earlier in the day already. She did seem to come and go as she pleased, not to mention without any fear whatsoever either.

Soon enough they reached a quaint motel painted bright orange; they bypassed the front desk and mounted the stairs, before coming to a halt outside of room 204. Sif fished out the key from her pocket, unlocked the door, and motioned him into the room first; he stepped inside, briefly overlooking the decorum, then over at her.

"Get comfortable, daddy-o. I'm going to pick you up something to wear." She winked, leaving before Tony could even object.

Awkwardly he stood in the center of the room, observing his surroundings further, until his eyes fell on a telephone. It really wasn't uncommon for Tony to go a day or so without speaking to his mother; but if this was going to be a few weeks then it would be wise to check-in, not only with his mother but Hogun too.

With a sigh, he sat onto the bed, grabbed the receiver, and dialed out. The telephone rang loudly in his ear and he couldn't say he was exactly surprised that his mother didn't answer. She could either be black-out drunk or out to the liquor store; maybe she even decided to go to work at this rate. But he really didn't know if she was experiencing a good day, a bad one, or a downright shitty one.

He hung up, pausing for a moment or two, before dialing his father's direct line at his office; he bypassed talking to Howard's secretary, who undoubtedly slept with him in the past, and got through within only four rings. But it wasn't his dad that answered.

"Obadiah Stane,"

"Hey, Obie, uh it's me, Tony," he said stiffly.

"Baby Howard," Obadiah greeted him as he always did. "How are you doing? Hopefully you haven't blown up anything of late!"

"No, of course not," he scowled. "I just wanted to talk to Howard."

"No can do, kiddo. Howard's in Paris for the rest of the month. I'm surprised he didn't drop you a line already; he left last Thursday."

"Why am I not surprised?" Tony bit the inside of his cheek, in an attempt to control any untoward anger he might have been experiencing; although it was mostly justified when it came to his father. "Well, I'm taking a bit of a road trip and since I couldn't get a hold of Mom, I figured I should let Howard know."

"I'll let him know whenever he calls,"

"Thanks and, uh, Obie,"

"Yeah kid,"

"If you could check up on Mom or have someone do it, I'd appreciate it. You know how she can be."

"Yeah, of course, kid. Don't worry about it; have fun on your little road trip." Obadiah replied, before saying goodbye and disconnecting the call.

Tony placed the receiver back in its cradle, choosing to forego the call to Hogun for now. His live report wasn't due for another week, so there wasn't any rush to get in touch. Hogun would probably take offense to being called up like that anyway; Tony had a feeling he still wasn't happy about his original call involving Odin's Sons tour.

Annoyed still from his conversation with Obie, Tony got up and went into the bathroom to shower. He peeled out of his well-loved Odin's Sons tee-shirt and faded jeans, before he climbed into the bathtub and showered in water far too hot. His skin turned a brilliant shade of pink, but he didn't shy away from it, and stayed a good fifteen minutes under the showerhead.

Only when the water began to cool down did he venture out, drying himself, and wrapping a towel around his waist. But he didn't get much further in his ritual, before Sif pushed the door open, dangling two different shopping bags at him; and by no means even offended by seeing him half-naked, despite his yelp of surprise.

"One bag of clothes and a bag of essentials," she explained, slipping out again once he took her offering without a word.

Tony went through both bags, quickly perusing the toothbrush and toothpaste and deodorant, and feeling more like a human again. The clothing she'd brought to him was pretty basic and spot-on size wise; he figured she just had a good eye for sizing people up.

He pulled on the boxer briefs she picked out, which were flaming red coinciding with his face at the thought that some girl he hardly knew bought him underwear, and yanked on dark wash of denim jeans before pulling on an Odin's Sons tee-shirt, probably one she snatched from the vending table's stash, his socks and worn tennis shoes, and then surveyed himself in the fogged-out mirror.

There was some stubble on his normally smooth face, but he figured it would help age him some. So he left it be, before gathering his dirty clothes and tossing them into the shopping bag, and slinking out to find Sif lounging on one of the double beds and watching television.

"Finally," she exclaimed dramatically, rolling to the side of the bed, and climbing to her feet. "There are some cool places we can hit up, since the show won't start for hours."

"What do they do when you're roaming around?"

"I bet Thor, Fandral, and Volstagg are going to get kicked out of bed very soon by Philly and head to rehearsal. They're going to be in horrific moods, so it's best if we steer clear of them."

"But shouldn't I be at rehearsal to, you know, write about it for the article?" Tony insisted, watching as she clicked off the television set, and gave him a knowing look.

There were very few people who could read him correctly, and well the one who always could was oftentimes too drunk to even know if there was one or two of him. Although he was beginning to suspect he was just transparent to the female persuasion.

"There will be thirteen more shows after this one; you'll get your chance. And Loki can't avoid the tour bus for very long; Philly will make him stay on it, in the very least for money reasons." She slapped him playfully on the shoulder. "Now come on, I want to sightsee. And I got your bag for you too; see how thoughtful I am?"

"Thank you," Tony grabbed his shoulder bag from a nearby chair, and stuffed the other shopping bags inside. "How much do I owe you, by the way?"

"You owe me your company around the city, daddy-o. Now let's get a move on it." Sif yanked on her big floppy hat on from the previous day, and pointed to the door to back up her words. "We have six hours at least and that isn't a lot of time for exploring a whole city; chop-chop!"

Helplessly Tony followed her out of the motel room and out into graying morning. He figured he'd entertain her for the time being, after all she had been uncharacteristically nice to him; not many people in her position would do the same thing, especially for someone they only met the previous day. So it was only proper etiquette to go along with her plans for now.

He also had to have faith that she was right about that Philly guy; about him forcing Loki Odinson back onto the tour bus due to budgetary issues. Which meant that Tony would just have to show some patience for once in his life, and try not to blow up anything in the process; but he couldn't make any promises either.


	7. Chapter Six :: San Francisco II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been pretty inspired to write on this story of late; so here is another chapter and hopefully it'll be more satisfactory than the filler chapter. And on a side note, I really like some of the lyrics for "Lady Stardust" by David Bowie; in a way it seems to describe Loki's character (or the evolution of him later on).
> 
> As always reviews are appreciated and inspire me to write further! :)

* * *

 

 

**Chapter Six :: San Francisco II**

 

 

* * *

 

"Stay here,"

"Why? I want to be at center-stage again." Tony glowered at the brunette attached to his arm, somehow showing a great deal of restraint despite wanting to knock her over. "This a nosebleed spot; if someone taller gets in front of us, we're screwed."

"Thor doesn't like to see people he knows in the front row. It messes with his concentration; why do you think I stay back here?"

"I don't know because you've probably seen them play a hundred times and are just plain bored now."

"Calm down, daddy-o," Sif remained attached to his arm still. "I mean it; if he can see your face in the crowd, he has a tendency to get funny. Especially at big shows like this; although he wasn't a fan of seeing anyone he knew back in the minor leagues either."

"That's the most ridiculous thing I ever heard," Tony snapped, even though he reserved himself to her will.

It was a pain in the ass to be in someone else's debt. If he hadn't been, nothing would have stopped him from pushing through the building crowd and taking his rightful spot in front of the stage. But Tony knew better than to tempt fate, especially when things had been going in his favor; well, aside from missing Loki Odinson at every turn.

Fate seemed to get a jolly by ensuring that Tony wouldn't meet his idol anytime soon. It was pushing his patience to the brink, but he kept reminding himself that it would happen. They couldn't possibly cohabitate on a tiny old tour bus without running into one another eventually. And there was still the matter of an interview, which meant Loki had to be present whether he liked it or not.

Sif had promised, almost flippantly really, that he'd get his chance sometime tonight; albeit the probability of an interview would be nil. The band was apparently not in their best form, socially anyway, and it would be pushing it to attempt to interview them.

"You'll get the exact same impact from over here," Sif crossed her arms, observing the crowd nonchalantly. "The only difference is you won't have Loki's sweat on you. And I'm sure if you really wanted it, we could work out something with him. Maybe we can steal his shirt; snatch it right off his back."

Tony whipped around, shooting her a scandalized look. Normally he would have run with a joke like that; both his parents believed his greatest attribute to the Stark name had been his sarcasm. But the idea of doing that to Loki Odinson was almost on the verge sacrilegious; especially now that he witnessed his stage performance.

Sif only smirked in return; Tony was starting to suspect she really could read him like a well-worn book. Or maybe she just knew his type; as much as there was a type of groupie, there must have been a type of star-struck fan, who worshiped the band like a lunatic. And Tony wasn't that far away from being completely crazed either.

"Give it a rest, daddy-o," she said with a hint of amusement. "Loki isn't opposed to singing on the tour bus; he does it a lot. So you'll get plenty of mini concerts to the point where you'll be sick of them."

"So you really are sick of the concerts already?" Tony raised an eyebrow.

"I never said that," Sif stared straight ahead, looking far, far away. "I've seen what Odin's Sons was when they were playing drab pubs with only a dozen people, mostly sloshed, as their audience. And I've seen them play crowds like this; but it never gets boring. Not when Loki's singing; that is something that'll never get old. Not even when he hits eighty; so long as he keeps that voice."

There was raw honesty in that statement and for a split-second Tony saw something that made his stomach flip-flop. He swore that Sif wasn't enamored with Loki as he was, in the whole idolized business; nor was she on the same level as Natasha was either. No, for that moment she almost looked like a girl hit hard by love.

Tony didn't know why that struck a chord in him but it did. Maybe it was because she was a beautiful girl who'd been infinitely too kind to him. Or maybe it was because there was a connection she shared with Loki Odinson that he never would. Not romantically per se, since he was hot-blooded heterosexual male, but a connection he'd never be able to obtain.

He swallowed hard, forcing himself to look at the semi-lit stage. More people had accumulated in the theater and were drawing close to its capacity. But they were lucky that no one too tall had settled into their line of vision, and they were still able to see the stage clearly.

Even as the opening act, the same avant-garde bullshitters, took the stage; Tony felt himself consumed by a slew of disjointed emotions. In all likelihood, Sif could have been Loki's girlfriend; it wasn't as if they had discussed why she was with the band. She was just there; she didn't really work for them for all intents and purposes, so it wouldn't be that farfetched to believe she was romantically entangled with his idol.

Tony bowed his head, taking several measured breaths in order to get a hold of his composure. Whatever he was feeling was utterly childish, and he was far from childish. He had to be more of an adult while dealing with an alcoholic mother and an absentee father (who had a predilection for whiskey); not to mention that whole genius spiel, made it difficult to be that immature.

And yet those feelings persisted; so long in fact, that the opening band was already wrapping up their set and Odin's Sons' roadies were teetering on the side of the stage. Sif appeared to be oblivious to his plight; or in the very least, she was kind enough to ignore it, which he was eternally grateful for.

"The opening band is god awful," Sif raised her voice and leaned towards him. "But they were the best of the cesspool."

"Tough luck," he returned half-heartedly, deciding that focusing all his might on the cacophony of noise on the stage was a better alternative than making eye contact with Sif.

It was hard not to feel stupid with such tumultuous feelings; none of which were justifiable in the slightest. He hadn't any right to feel whatever it was he felt; he was just an outsider with a tape recorder and a notepad, ready to get the gritty details on his favorite band. That was the extent of his involvement and Tony Stark did not get emotionally compromised.

He repeated that mantra in his head, only pausing when the roadies were dashing off the stage after prepping it for the band, and once the lights lowered until it was completely dark in the room. As it had happened the previous night, an explosion of rainbow lights went off, basking the stage in a red hue before four figures made their way into their respected positions.

Tony found he was already familiar with Volstagg, Thor, and Fandral to the point that their presence didn't mystify him at all. Loki's tall and thin figure however had him instantly enchanted; he was almost bowled over by the sound that bellowed out of the man, coinciding with the red light dissipating back to a normal shade.

Loki stood like a god amongst men, singing with such force and intensity that the whole crowd could only gap in awe, before the music crashed around the room like a thunderclap and caused everyone to holler in excitement.

Tony gaped, surveying Loki from head to toe; he was all long limbs and graceful movements, swaying with the music and pulling the microphone stand up close and personal to him then pushing it away when he would hit a particularly high note. But what was even more telling were his eyes; the same eyes that had been focused on Tony the previous night, which were wide and wondrous as if he really wasn't connected to the crowd at all but a place farther away.

Time ceased to even exist then. Everything boiled down to one thing and one thing only for Tony and that was Loki Odinson. The rest of the band could stop playing, march right off the stage, and so long as Loki was singing nothing else mattered. And he vaguely suspected everyone in the room would agree with him.

Loki was the epicenter of the universe; the way, in which he swayed dangerously backwards, belting out one of the highest notes Tony had ever heard in his life, and righting himself languidly as if to show off every muscle in his body through the thin forest green oxford he wore, which was partially opened to show his clavicles and the sheen of sweat that settled against his flesh.

Every inane detail was ingrained in Tony's brain, to the point where he thought he might short-circuit. Each movement, expression, and word assaulted his better judgment; he was completely oblivious to the outside world as the songs rolled off of Loki's tongue, and when he eventually took up his acoustic guitar to accompany Thor's masterful playing.

It was so much information to consume all at once; and it was ripped away from him just as quickly as it begun to flood his brain. Someone was yanking on his arm, even though Loki was still on stage and singing breathily into the microphone, haloed by the rainbow lights again. Tony tried to pull away but Sif's voice was in his ear, vainly attempting to break the trance he was in.

"We need to get on the bus, daddy-o," she explained still pulling on his arm. "Philly wants to get a move on it early for Seattle."

"Tell Philly to fuck off," Tony almost hissed, refusing to look away from the stage.

"Either you stand here and watch the last two songs, and get stranded in San Francisco; or you can get on the bus and eye-fuck Loki up close and personal."

"I am not eye-fucking him! I'm straight!" He yelled angrily, finally turning to her and shooting her the deadliest look that he could.

The look had very little effect on her though; Sif continued to pull on his arm, until he gave into her whim. But he did so mostly to contradict her words; in no way had he been eye-fucking Loki. Someone with his reputation of chasing skirts (although his success rate had very little to do with it), would not have been eye-fucking another guy. And the insinuation pissed him off more than he could describe.

Luckily he hadn't the opportunity to vocalize it, because that would have been a first-way ticket off the tour bus and onto public transport. Sif dragged him towards the left-side of the room where one of the roadies was standing with his arms crossed. He recognized Sif immediately, grabbing onto her hand, and working his way through the crowd with ease.

They created an unbreakable human chain, making it to the railing in no time flat; the roadie hopped over it, before reaching for Sif and lifting her over it, and roughly helping Tony over when he clamored over the edge.

A middle-aged guy in a brown suede suit met them out of nowhere, motioning towards the backstage area and towards the exit, which was propped open. The smell of cigarette and pot smoke was strong; the roadies were clearly relaxing before they had to get back to work.

"No wandering around, Amelia," the middle-aged guy said sternly, before turning to Tony. "Keep an eye on her; she has a penchant for holding up the band."

"Shut up, Philly," Sif scowled, latching onto Tony's arm again. "We're going to the bus now. Just make sure Fandral doesn't try and bring any whores along for the ride."

"Omit that from your article, please," the guy grinned mirthlessly. "Now go on, Loki's solo is coming up in two minutes; the others should be heading your way soon."

They were shooed away like a pair of misbehaving children, which Sif didn't take very well; but she still led the way outside past the roadies who grunted out hellos, the first that Tony had ever heard from them. Sif returned the greetings but didn't break stride as they hit the cool evening air, and were walking down a large cement slope.

The sound of Loki's voice trailed them as they made their way to the bus; Tony felt both anger and regret for having to leave so early, but knew his top priority was to be on the same bus as Loki instead of merely in the same room.

"Don't be so pissed off, daddy-o," Sif said, looking over her shoulder at him. "I was only making a joke about the eye-fucking thing."

"It wasn't funny," Tony snapped.

"It was a little funny,"

"It was not,"

"Okay, fine. It wasn't funny at all. You're a mega-hetero, who is so masculine that you just ooze testosterone." She offered, before greeting a gray-haired guy with a bushy mustache who was leaning against the bus. "That's Gary, the bus driver."

"You're just trying to pick a fight now,"

"I am not!" She paused in the midst of opening the bus's door. "Loki is gifted, so gifted people fall in love with him by sight. But when he opens his mouth, all bets are off. He's something special and people know it. You, Tony, know it."

Tony knew it, all right. Even before he'd seen Loki in person, he knew the owner of that voice was something special. He couldn't put his finger on it precisely, but it was more than just Loki's vocal range; it was beyond comprehension, which frustrated the hell out of him since he was a genius.

Sif gazed at him one last time, then pulled open the door and disappeared into the bus. Tony peered at Gary who was pretending not to be paying attention, but it was so obvious it wasn't even funny, before he too got onto the bus and chose to slide into the booth across from the kitchenette.

He didn't bother to look to where Sif went, and instead waited a good fifteen minutes before the three members of Odin's Sons mounted the steps and greeted him with mixed reception. Despite having a successful show under their belt, none of them looked too pleased especially Thor.

The big guy lumbered towards the back of the bus, leaving behind Fandral and Volstagg who collapsed into the booth across from him. Fandral already had a cigarette between his lips, which he lit with a stray match, while Volstagg cradled a half-empty bottle of Jack Daniels to his chest.

"Shite show, man," Fandral openly scowled. "I swear Loki is going to skewer us."

"The bloke's been in a mood since Berlin," Volstagg shook his head. "And we won't hear the end of it anytime soon."

"I thought you guys were great," Tony lied, since he hadn't necessarily noticed anyone but Loki.

"If you thought that was great, you should see us when we aren't playing like shite," Fandral returned, pointing his cigarette at Tony, and swatting the air. "We can play a fucking show."

"London last autumn, that was a show," Volstagg affirmed.

"Brussels in February, that was a fucking show," Fandral added.

"San Francisco in June, bloody fucking awful," someone said, drawing the table's attention to them. "Los Angeles was no better either; why not give the Rolling Stone further ammunition to criticize us? I believe the term lackluster comes to mind."

Tony stilled, forgetting momentarily how to breathe. Standing only several feet away from him was Loki Odinson; his oxford was untucked and completely unbuttoned, revealing a lithe and pale torso still wet with perspiration. He walked leisurely towards the table, eyeing Volstagg and Fandral with a look that a schoolmarm would envy, while disregarding Tony entirely.

"I advise you to think about drinking the night before a gig," Loki snarled, before lifting both eyebrows almost innocently. "Or you lot will be on your own."

"Seattle isn't for three days," Fandral waved his cigarette wielding hand dismissively. "And we hear you loud and clear, crowned prince of Odin. No bloody drinks the night before a show."

Loki pressed both his hands onto the tabletop, leaning in to the point where Tony could smell some sort of cologne on his skin. Hell, he could have literally reached out and touched him; although the idea was both ludicrous and highly inappropriate, especially when it looked like Loki might actually attack either Fandral or Volstagg.

"You have more than a capable vocalist in Thor," Loki sneered, only to turn his attention onto the guy wearing the brown suede suit who suddenly appeared; he'd wrapped his arm around Loki's waist and urged him to right himself again.

"The show was great," the guy said with a smile. "You guys are just too critical that's all. But trust me; the crowd was eating out of your hands. They loved you."

Loki glowered at the guy who kept smiling as if this was typical. The guy's arm remained firmly around Loki's waist, as he graced everyone at the booth with a look that while was pleasant on the outside, could have very well been a warning of sorts underneath all its layers.

"Now why don't you catch a shower; Gary managed to fix the stall. Afterwards, we'll stop somewhere for something to eat, okay?" The guy directed to Loki, who still looked vaguely murderous, but conceded nonetheless.

Before he ventured further into the bus, Loki shot Tony a look that was veiled in mystery. Tony held his breath almost terrified by it; but the fear soon passed as Loki did, who yelled something unpleasant at Thor who returned the favor in turn.

The guy in the brown suede suit only shook his head, before leaning conspiratorially against the table. Fandral rolled his eyes, taking a long drag from his cigarette; Volstagg opened the Jack Daniels bottle and sniffed it, but didn't take a drink since his focus was on the guy in the brown suede suit.

"We can't have this going on,"

"When was it our job to make sure he's happy, Phil? We're a band not back-up musicians." Fandral scoffed. "Besides the bastard's been in a fit for weeks and you just keep coddling him."

"No, Fandral, I am not coddling him. As your manager, I'm protecting your business. And let's not kid ourselves when we say Loki is an integral part of why the band is successful."

"But he isn't the only reason," Volstagg supplied, before taking a sip from the bottle.

"I think you two could make a consensus with me. It was your fault and especially Thor's why he's been like this. And in the very least, you could not be piss-drunk the night before a show. Just to appease him for the time being; in between shows, go crazy." Phil, or Philly, said before glancing towards Tony. "I imagine you'll keep this off the record, won't you?"

"Hear no evil, see no evil," Tony returned numbly.

"Great then, I'll tell Gary we're ready to go. We'll find something to eat on the way out of town." Phil nodded. "And maybe you two can think about speaking with Tony sometime tomorrow."

"Hear you loud and clear, Phil," Fandral saluted and took the bottle out of Volstagg's hand.

Phil exited the tour bus, leaving behind an uncomfortable silence in his wake. Tony was assaulted by another series of emotions, but mostly confusion. The dynamics of the band were far more complex than he originally anticipated for; and his first meeting with Loki Odinson hadn't gone according to plan.

Well, it really hadn't been a meeting at all. Loki had ignored him for the most part, except when he pinned him with an uncomfortable gaze and disappeared into the back of the bus. Tony could only hope that he would be properly introduced to him and maybe they would even have a conversation; although he figured it was for the best that he had time to collect himself, since his emotions were unbalanced and he really didn't know what he felt towards Loki now.

But something twisted painfully in his gut, when his mind wandered back to the way Loki had leaned against the table and unwittingly showcased every muscle in his abdomen while doing so. Tony buried his face in his hands, ignoring the banter between Fandral and Volstagg, and willed his anatomy to get itself under control before he nose-dived into a full-blown identity crisis.


	8. Chapter Seven :: Three O'Clock Interviews

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry to inundate you with my blather, but I was so happy by the reception I got from the previous chapter that I had to post this one. Everyone made me feel so warm and fuzzy on the inside; thank you so much, now let me love you!
> 
> And this chapter was pretty fun to write; I seem to thrive while writing a particular someone. ;)

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**Chapter Seven :: Three O'Clock Interviews**

 

* * *

 

Tony woke with a start; his heart pounded in his throat, coming down from a nightmare that was already fading away. Most of his nightmares had the tendency to dissipate before he could analyze them properly; which generally would have been a plus, had it not been for his need to be infinitely self-aware. Despite his tendency to then sweep his self-awareness underneath the metaphorical rug.

Knowing there was no way in hell that he'd get back to sleep; he slid the curtains open to his bunk and climbed onto his feet. The only sound that was audible was the drone of the tour bus; everyone appeared to be asleep, which was just fine. Tony needed some time to think without anyone buzzing around him, especially Sif.

During the past few days, he admittedly hadn't been acting like himself. Being star-struck wasn't his forte and if anyone could see him, James in particular, he'd never be able to live it down. Hogun too would probably be stunned stupid by his reverent attitude; albeit, he wasn't necessarily pleased with his own behavior either. No less, his thoughts that were becoming unbearable on top of it.

What he really needed was time to decompress, to work his way back to his element. And the only way he could do it was alone; so he decided to make good use of his time. Reaching back into his bunk, Tony grabbed his bag and moved to the front of the bus; but he drew up short, once he saw two people sitting quietly at the table.

Sif was eyeing a spiral notebook, having drawn her knees underneath her chin; her long brown hair ran like a waterfall around her, and seemed to emphasize her beauty underneath the god awful yellow lightning that illuminated the breakfast nook.

Sitting opposite of her was none other than Loki Odinson; he was watching her with an intensity that was almost uncomfortable to witness, cradling his cheek in one hand that was also balancing a burning cigarette between his fingers.

Tony pressed himself into the shadows and held his breath; although neither Sif nor Loki appeared to have noticed him at all. Both of them were clearly distracted and that unpleasant sensation overwhelmed Tony suddenly; the same one he'd gotten when he suspected that Sif was Loki's girlfriend.

"Does it have a name yet?" Sif raised her head slowly, pushing her hair behind her ears.

"Maybe," Loki returned in a lighter voice than his singing one. "I don't know yet. It might make certain people uncomfortable."

"When have you ever been conscious of what anyone else thinks, Lo?" She asked. "Your favorite pastime is to offend."

"I thought you knew me better, Amelia,"

"What's the name of it?" She pressed, pushing the spiral notebook across the table towards him.

Suddenly Loki's face cracked into a smile, probably the most beautiful smile Tony had ever seen on another human being's lips. The intensity that had been so poignant on his features was no longer there, instead replaced by something almost on the verge of angelic.

Rather than bask in it, Sif huffed in annoyance and pointed her index finger at him; which, in turn, only made that smile grow larger and more brilliant. Loki put the smoldering cigarette to his lips, taking a long drag from it, and expelling the smoke from the side of his mouth so it wouldn't go directly into Sif's face.

"You know me better than that. I'm just a normal gent from Essex; if it wasn't for Thor, I would still be working in record shops and busing pubs." He laughed again, rich and penetrating at her annoyed expression. "But even if I don't mind offending, I don't purposely hurt others. But this, this would hurt someone very much."

Loki tapped the notebook with his free hand; his smile faded away, leaving behind the intensity again that was both haunting and exhilarating. He tilted his head, studying the notebook as Sif had only moments ago, before he flipped the cover and hid whatever was written on the page.

"Why did you share it with me then?" Sif almost whispered it out, dropping her legs from underneath her chin.

"Dear Amelia, I wanted your opinion of course,"

"You usually share these things with Thor," she pressed.

"I'm not privy to share anything with him now, you know that. But you should also realize I'd never share this with him, if my life depended on it." Loki suddenly glowered, taking a longer drag from his cigarette. "Don't be stupid; I hate when you do that."

"Excuse me, but you see everyone as stupid," Sif swatted the air. "That's why I'm surprised you haven't bothered to speak to our reporter. He's pretty smart and probably right up your alley."

Tony tensed and held his breath again; his eyes shot towards Loki, who was still drawing on his cigarette and giving nothing away. It was single-handedly the most stressful ten seconds of his life, waiting for his idol to say something, anything about him; and when a soft hum rumbled from Loki's throat, he wasn't sure how to feel.

"Stop playing coy," Sif urged, seemingly growing even more frustrated.

"Then stop playing stupid,"

"I'll stop playing stupid when you start answering my questions. You're the one who got me out of bed."

"My apologies, I thought you would like to breathe without my brother nearly suffocating you with his impressive girth. But you do seem to enjoy that now don't you, Amelia?" Loki said it in a manner that was both nasty and sugary sweet.

Sif bristled almost immediately and began to climb out of the booth, but Loki stopped her. His hand wrapped around her wrist, cementing her to the spot, which only made her bristle more. He drew her closer to him, shifting his body to the edge of the booth so his long jean-clad legs stuck out into the aisle, and she was in between them.

Tony's heart pounded harder than it had when he came to; he didn't know what was happening, and yet the implication was doing awful things to his insides. They twisted to the point of being painful and made him shrink further into the shadows; although he really couldn't move from the spot, despite risking the chance of being discovered.

"What was it you said about not purposely hurting people?" She practically hissed, but making no move to pull away from his grasp.

"You hurt me," Loki returned lowly, shifting his eyes away from her face. "You still hurt me; daily, hourly, minutely."

"Stop it right now, Loki,"

"Go to bed, Amelia. My brother will realize you're gone and draw to insidious conclusions." He let go of her, before his index finger pressed itself above her heart and moved it touch the same spot on his chest. "And if you stay here, I'll be compelled by insidious means."

"You're unfair, Loki. You've always been unfair." She said on the verge of hateful. "Don't wake me up again."

"Cross my heart," he returned fickly, before readjusting himself into the booth.

Without gracing him with another look, Sif stormed towards the darkened length of the bus. Tony panicked for the briefest moment, pressing himself into the nook in between the communal area and the bunk-beds; and somehow, by the grace of god, she didn't notice him.

His heart was in his throat again, beating erratically and faster than it ever had before. It was worse than when he stole his father's finest scotch from his liquor cabinet, and had come very close to being caught with it. Since if he honestly had been caught eavesdropping, he could only imagine being manually thrown off the tour bus in northern California; which really wasn't an ideal situation.

Tony didn't know how long he stood there after Sif's departure, but it was long enough for Loki to light another cigarette, before flipping open the notebook and staring at the page reverently. Once his heart slowed and the painful emotions inside of him dampened, Tony slid from the shadows and stepped into the communal area.

It only took half a beat for Loki to lift his head, even less time for him to flip his notebook closed again. He pinned Tony with that look again, a look that he hadn't even graced Sif with; and in retrospect, Tony could admit it was the scariest thing he'd ever witnessed.

Loki opened his mouth, before clamping it shut immediately. Someone slapped Tony hard across the back, almost sending him careening to the floor, and it took a lot of self-restraint not to shoot an expletive and a sarcastic-addled insult at whoever the culprit was.

"Have I interrupted an interview?" Thor asked sleepily, although he didn't seem to mind if his actions were any indication of it.

Thor ambled towards the kitchenette, opening cabinets and drawers, and settling onto a bottle, of what could only be, warm beer which he found in a lower cabinet. But that didn't deter him in the slightest; he twisted off the cap easily, and took a long and healthy drink from it.

"Only if Rolling Stone reporters conduct interviews at three o'clock in the morning," Loki muttered, shooting nasty glares at his brother. "But if you'll excuse me, I need to sleep."

Tony wanted to say something, anything to stop Loki; which normally would have been an easy feat for him. Except nothing was easy or normal for him at the moment; everything that he was seemed to be reduced to the goofy Rolling Stone reporter, who could only stare at Loki Odinson as if he was the messiah himself. And the same goofy reporter that just stepped out of the way to let Loki pass.

Not even a single word escaped him and before he knew it, Loki had already disappeared into the back of the bus and he was left with a half-asleep Thor. The band leader drank most of the bottle of beer within seconds, gracing him with a bleary eyed look, and Tony wanted nothing more than to punch it right off his face.

"You'll have a hard time getting anything from Loki. I hope you aren't planning to make him the focus of your interview; it would be a shame for you and for Odin's Sons." Thor said, leaning against the cabinetry.

"Oh, it'll be hard especially since every time I get near the guy someone interrupts," Tony openly seethed, before collapsing into the booth Sif had previously been in.

The smell of Loki's cigarettes was still very apparent; as was that cologne which was stronger than it had been beforehand when Tony first smelled it. He must have applied it again, generously at that. But it was by no means unbearable either; he liked the smell and that threw him back into his cycle of confusion and annoyance, and made him want to punch Thor even harder.

"Let's not jerk each other off here, Thor. Everyone wants to know what the lead singer has to say; his ass is going to be slapped right in the middle of any photo shoot you do because he's the Grand Poobah! The lead singer always gets the attention, all the goddamn accolades! And it would be great, fucking beautiful, if I could corner him and at least introduce myself without everyone and their mother stopping me!" He slapped his notepad onto the table, hitting the point of reckless indifference.

Why skirt around it anymore? It might have only been two, going on three, days since he'd been pulled into Odin's Sons' world, but his haywire emotions were taking their toll already. He might not last the entire tour at this rate; hell, he might actually want to be kicked off the bus now.

Thor stared at him, bringing the bottle again to his lips, and downing it without taking his eyes off of him. It was clear that Tony had struck a nerve; but it should have been a given already that bands with questionable and explosive dynamics were made up of a bundle of exposed nerves, and Odin's Sons were no different.

"I've been told that many times. Despite Loki only joining the band out of convenience, he has easily taken over." Thor murmured, his voice brimming with uncontrolled bitterness. "You'll have your interview with him Tony Stark, even if I have to hold him in place. But I hope you recognize that Odin's Sons is not Loki nor is Loki Odin's Sons."

"Trust me, I know. But it won't do the band any favors if he isn't showcased; and at this rate, I figure that's exactly what's going to happen." Tony jotted down several things onto his notepad, words that he'd interpret later when he sat down at his typewriter to shape the article.

"You'll be with us for almost two months; that is unless you are having second thoughts. Or maybe someone far bigger has decided to tour at the same time as us, and you need to cover them instead."

"Two months is a long fucking time," he paused in his writing, shooting Thor a pointed look. "And I can't wait around on the promise I might talk to Loki. If I get some questions answered every once in a while, then I won't have to worry; understand?"

"I understand very well," Thor smiled genuinely, which was a surprise to say the least. "Loki will be all yours tomorrow evening. I shall see to it."

Tony parted his lips, suddenly hit by a furious flush. Of course he knew what Thor meant but those despicable feelings, which he was going to hide under lock and key, twisted the words into a sexual innuendo. And for Christ's sake for a split-second, he imagined Loki squirming all long-limbed and uncoordinated on his bunk-bed.

Thor didn't appear to notice his duress, only bestowing him with a good night, before he too disappeared into the back of the bus. And Tony, despite his original reason for getting up in the first place, found that he didn't want to be left by himself anymore. Since those thoughts were threatening to consume him with their intensity.

"Jesus Christ," he bemoaned, covering his face with both hands. "What the hell is wrong with me?"


	9. Chapter Eight :: Seattle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is another filler chapter, but at least I'm establishing the bedrock for some of the funner things to come (or so I hope). :)
> 
> And thank you to everyone who have been so receptive to this story; I'm overwhelmed by your kindness!

* * *

 

 

**Chapter Eight :: Seattle**

 

 

* * *

 

Thor had lied to Tony. Not once or even twice, but a total of three times. The first time had barely been forgivable, while the second had been utterly irreprehensible, and the third had stemmed an ugly and uncharacteristic level of vindictiveness from Tony.

Despite being promised a face-to-face encounter with Loki, it hadn't come to fruition. It had been almost impossible to catch a moment with Loki; regardless of being in a confined space for hours at a time, there hadn't been any opportune time to speak. It also didn't help that whenever Tony was anywhere near the guy, someone swooped in to interrupt.

Super manager Phil Coulson had been a frequent interrupter, although everyone had contributed to the problem as well. Even Gary the tour bus driver had a hand in it; why the old man wanted to share a cigarette break with Loki fucking Odinson was beyond his understanding, but it had happened at least four times already.

Not to mention, whenever the tour bus pulled to halt for any reason, Loki had a knack for slipping away undetected. No matter the location, even a bum-fuck town in Oregon, Loki had disappeared for well over an hour and no one had questioned it; although they were quick to complain and belittle him until he finally returned, empty-handed and perfectly casual.

Thor had been the only one to comment, which had caused the situation to turn from mild to violent within seconds. Luckily Volstagg had been there to ensure that the two brothers didn't kill one another; although a cabinet door had been completely demolished thanks to Thor's canned ham fist.

By the time the tour bus rolled onto the rain-soaked streets of Seattle, Tony had gone from idol worship to angry reporter. Anyone unfortunate to get in his path, beyond a one Loki Odinson, had been subjected to his trademark snark and sarcastic banter, which seemed to both surprise and amuse them. Except the whole situation was far from amusing to him; regardless of only being drawn into Odin's Sons' world for less than a week, he really couldn't deal with the frustration any longer.

So to counteract his poor luck and Thor's inability to keep a promise, Tony had conjured up a plan of attack. He noticed from Loki's previous disappearing act, that he oftentimes slipped away undetected because everyone had been too busy pressing their faces to the windows, and freeing up the aisle for his grand escape. Therefore, he would only have to be the first one off the bus and ambush Loki then; or he could simply block his path. Either way, it would, in the very least, reap some positive results.

Once the tour bus came to a halt, he was quick to clamor down the aisle as everyone was plastered to the windows, and paused on the top step until Gary slid the door open for him. Tony leapt onto the wet asphalt, almost bowled over by the cool breeze that whipped across his face. But even that couldn't dampen his exhilaration on finally getting one up on Odin's Sons' elusive singer.

Within moments the echo of footfall came from the bus, to reveal, well the person he wasn't expecting to see for one. Sif emerged from the bus, clutching her oversized hat with both hands, and was followed by Thor who looked bleary-eyed and unfocused. It was still considerably early for him to be up, although it didn't explain why they were the first ones off the bus instead of Loki.

"Wow, wow," Tony raised both hands. "Where the hell is Loki? He's always the first one off the bus."

"Cool it, daddy-o," Sif said, visibly shuddering from the breeze. "He's still on the bus, dead asleep. He won't be going anywhere; Philly will be lucky if he can wake him up for the sound check."

"Loki hasn't slept since San Francisco," Thor added sheepishly.

"And when he's out, he's out. You'd have an easier time waking a dead man than Lo."

"Oh, it's for the better anyway. Maybe he'll be peachier after a nap; although I suspect all he needs is his cock sucked." Fandral provided as he dismounted the bus with Volstagg and Phil on his heels. "The bloke hasn't had a woman in ages. Hell, he might still be as virginal as the virgin mother."

"Omit that from the article as well," Phil muttered wearily. "Now I expect you guys to be back by two-thirty. So do not be late."

The group made noncommittal noises, none of which were enthusiastic in the slightest. Before Phil could impose any further work onto them, the band and Sif started towards the rain-soaked pavement that was filled by a slew of pedestrians with umbrellas.

Phil offered Tony a smile, as he walked towards the impressive looking theater that the bus was parked behind. Once he disappeared into the building, Tony climbed back onto the bus, nodding absent-mindedly at Gary's exclamation that he was off to find a proper breakfast, and walked up the aisle until he stood in the darkened quarters at the back of the bus.

Loki had taken refuge on the bunk farthest away from the rest, although Tony didn't know if it was either the top or the bottom bunk. Both sets of curtains were drawn closed and there weren't any discernible sounds from either. Now that he was left to his own devices, Tony wasn't exactly sure he wanted to wake Loki despite how aggravated he'd been.

His timid nature, which hadn't revealed itself until in Loki's presence, reappeared. But he also knew if he didn't make a move then he'd never get what he wanted; and Tony Stark always, inevitably, got what he wanted in the end. How else did he end up on Odin's Sons' tour bus without having to suck a dick?

Taking a deep breath, Tony reached forward and dragged his fingers along the bottom bunk's cheap velvet curtains, but jerked away with a start once the top bunk's curtains were yanked open. He staggered backwards, pressed against the opposite bunks, and gaped as Loki blinked several times clearly disoriented.

His usually coiffed hair was wild and unkempt, which seemed far more suitable for a lead singer of a rock 'n roll band. Very slowly, almost feline-like, Loki climbed out of his bunk only clothed in a pair of unbelievably tight jeans that were unbuttoned and unzipped, exposing his pleasure trail and the V of his groin, and a leather cuff on his right wrist.

Tony held his breath, openly staring as Loki stretched and simultaneously yawned. Every muscle in his torso was on full display and made Tony both self-conscious of his lack of definition, and entranced by what he was seeing. Although he had to try his hardest to keep his mind platonic; which wasn't hard, of course not, because he was a straight, straighter than an arrow, teenage boy that was in no way attracted to another man.

Loki finally graced him with a look, one that lacked the intensity of the previous ones, before he huffed out something under his breath. They stared at one another for a very long time, and Tony was reaching the point where he wished the floor would open up and swallow him up.

"This bloody country has a poor excuse for tea," Loki suddenly exclaimed, looking like a petulant child. "All I want is a cup of tea."

This bit of information took some time for Tony to compute, based on the fact it was so arbitrary. Loki always spoke with conviction and didn't dawdle with small talk; so this was something new, another side of his idol that Tony hadn't realized lived underneath his cool and collected persona.

"You want tea?" Tony managed to ask, which was the most he'd ever said to the man.

"English tea," Loki scowled at nothing in particular. "Why is this country so privy to coffee anyway?"

"Have you heard of a little incident called the Boston Tea Party?" He cracked a grin, only to regret it soon thereafter by the look Loki shot at him.

The bleary-eyed innocence on Loki's face had been replaced by that sharp no-bullshit stare. But that too dissipated within seconds and the rock god was looking at some undetermined point on the floor, almost as if he still needed to gather his bearings after his prelude into sleep.

It then struck Tony why Loki was always racing off the bus, and never had anything to show for on top of that. He was looking for tea; of all things a good looking, talented rock god could be looking for. Most would have been on the search for liquor or more importantly drugs, which had leveled out Hendrix and Joplin the previous fall. But this was a first; it had to be.

"That's why you're always leaving the bus. You've been looking for tea all this time."

" _English_ tea," Loki corrected. "Your country's definition of tea is lacking considerably."

Of all things that he imagined speaking with Loki Odinson about, tea definitely hadn't been on the short list. Hell, he knew very little about tea aside from the fact that his mother used to have tea with her old friends on Sundays at the mansion.

He also remembered how both Howard and Obie would complain themselves blue in the face, when their English counterparts came into the country. Mostly because they felt compelled to buy crates of tea for the occasion, in order to make an impression, and were left with the remnants which they couldn't get rid of.

"I could get you tea, English tea," Tony blurted out, almost surprised by his sudden stroke of genius. "Straight from England,"

Loki graced him with that strange and intense stare, and by god he wanted to ask what the hell that was about. Except he was instantly drawn into it, almost flushing because of it; and if he felt weak in the knees, well that had nothing to do with it at all.

"I mean it might take a few days, but I can get you some."

"And why on earth would you do that? Certainly it isn't out of the kindness of your heart."

"It's a bargaining chip, actually. I get you what you want and in turn you give me what I want; and that's a whole hour of your time, uninterrupted." Tony smiled, despite feeling lightheaded and suddenly very, very hot.

"I don't like you," Loki deadpanned, scratching the skin underneath his navel in a way that shouldn't have been sensual but somehow was. "You're too smart; Amelia mentioned that you were. I suppose she wasn't exaggerating, unfortunately."

Despite it being a backhanded compliment, Tony couldn't stop the stupid grin that crossed his lips; and it only grew when Loki noticed it and scoffed openly. He realized it was borderline idiotic to be that happy over something as inconsequential as that; but he'd be damned if he didn't revel in being alone in Loki Odinson's presence either.

"You know you won't regret it. I can get the tea to you by Vegas; two days away and you'll be sipping Earl Grey with your pinky sticking out like the Queen."

"Oh yes, like the Queen herself," Loki advanced on him without any warning, and just as quickly boxing him against the bunk-beds. "But let me tell you something, _Tony Stark_ , I don't trust you at all. You may have my time but if you believe I'll be as open and honest as those other fools, you are sorely mistaken. Because I know reporters and I know your kind especially."

"W-What do you mean?" Tony stuttered, so close and personal with the other man that he could see that there were flecks of gold in his brilliant green irises.

"Liars, Mr. Stark," he trailed a hand along the front of his tee-shirt, pausing only to tap on his sternum. "When you are a twenty-one year old reporter, then I am my ninety year old grandmother."

Fear ebbed into every one of Tony's senses, albeit something else roiled underneath the surface. Self-control had never been one of his finer points, after all he wouldn't have blown up a good portion of the high school's science lab if that had been the case. Because science or his baser needs really, always outshone self-control and common sense; but somehow he managed not to do anything that he'd regret in the future (or almost immediately).

His hands remained perfectly still against his sides, despite wanting to touch the taut line of muscles of Loki's abdomen and maybe, just maybe, follow the trail of hair underneath his navel and touch the skin hidden underneath his jeans and…

"Couldn't be any older than Amelia," Loki muttered, overlooking him slowly and almost intimately. "Brilliant with the stubble, however,"

Tony sucked in a breath as the older man brushed the back of his knuckles along his jaw with a week's worth of unkempt facial hair. He needed to at least try and maintain it, if he really decided he wanted to go the mustache-goatee route. It was a good look, aside from the fact he resembled Howard more and more every day.

"It must be exhilarating to fool so many people," Loki suddenly smiled. "But you cannot possibly tell an elaborate enough lie to fool a fellow liar. You just didn't prepare for that, now did you?"

"Actually, I figured as much," Tony exhaled. "But that doesn't mean I'm confirming or denying what you've said, because that would be an amateur's mistake. You know, liar to liar."

Loki drew away and looked, for a split-second, stunned by all means; except he was a master of saving face, and transfixed a nonchalant expression onto his features. It didn't, however, stop him from grasping Tony's face in his hand, tilting it side to side before releasing him abruptly.

"You'll have your interview once I have my tea. No sooner." Loki said, before climbing agilely back into his bunk-bed and stretching out to the point where his jeans shimmied further down his hips; Tony had to look away, lest he do that regrettable thing after all.

"You'll get it, I promise," he backed away, although his eyes remained on Loki's. "Just going to make a quick phone call,"

"By all means," Loki returned, before drawing the curtains on his bunk-bed again; and Tony didn't realize how relieved he was until the sight of him was gone.

Practically tripping over his own two feet, Tony hurried to the front of the tour bus, and scrambled out the door back into the rainy weather. He looked up and down the street, choosing to go right without any reason behind it, and rushed to find a payphone.

Obie would only be too happy to get rid of that tea; as early as Easter Sunday, he'd been complaining about it collecting dust in one of Stark Industries many conference rooms. And they hadn't been moved to storage because what a waste it would be, to contaminate (in the laboratories) so much tea that cost an arm and a leg importing from England.

And Tony too would only be too happy to help Obie out. After all, he would get one-on-one time with Loki that didn't involve talking about tea, and hopefully not about how both of them were liars. Also maybe Loki would make it a point to be fully dressed, in order to stave away any arousal, which Tony did not feel, that he might invoke while almost half-naked and sleep tousled.


	10. Chapter Nine :: Seattle II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm always blown away by how well-received this story has been. Mostly because I've been winging it (a lot); and this chapter kind of came together chaotically, you know with Loki doing what he wants. XD
> 
> The songs mentioned in this chapter are: "Wild Horses" by the Rolling Stones, "For Yasgur's Farm" by Mountain, and "Piece of My Heart" by Janis Joplin.

* * *

 

**Chapter Nine: Seattle II**

 

* * *

 

Decadence hadn't necessarily been the first word Tony would have used to describe the band. They seemed fairly tame from the past week he'd spent with them; but something had changed after the Seattle show. Maybe it was because it was a well-played set (Fandral's words not his); or maybe the days spent endlessly on the tour bus had finally drove them mad. Either way, the tour bus had become a four-ringed circus.

Roadies clambered in and out of the bus, pulling several scantily clad girls after them, while others were carrying boxes and bottles of every kind of alcohol imaginable. Groupies and hanger-ons were everywhere, inside and outside the bus; the lazy drizzle of rain couldn't even keep them away from the festivities.

Tony forced his way through the crowd, assaulted by the smell of weed, cigarette smoke, and cheap perfume. But it was even worse inside the cramped confines of the tour bus; people were squashed into one another, lounging anywhere they could find room to, and passing bottles, joints, and cigarettes amongst themselves.

It didn't take very long to find Fandral, whom was necking on a fiery redhead, while balancing a lit cigarette between his fingers. Volstagg was close-by, both arms occupied with a blonde and a brunette who were actively fighting for his attention in the most gratuitous ways imaginable.

Unsurprisingly Loki was nowhere in sight, testament to the fact that the hyper-sexual groupies were openly complaining about it. In fact, neither of the Odinson brothers was to be seen; which only concerned Tony, since when they were left without any intervention it only meant bloodshed.

Struggling through the steady wave of bodies, Tony started towards the exit. While he'd never been privy to claustrophobia before; he found it particularly hard to breathe with so many uncoordinated limbs pressed against him from every which way. Not to mention, the steady stream of smoke wafting in the air was starting to give him a headache.

It took far longer to get back to the front of the bus than it had to get into in the first place. Another drove of individuals were already fighting their way inside; many of the girls were asking anyone within the vicinity if they had seen either Odinson brother, but receiving unhelpful responses so far.

Tony managed to clamor out into the open air, just as one of the larger roadies carried in what could only be described as some kind of crate filled with beer. The occupants of the tour bus let out a collective sound of appreciation by the new offering, and he was only too glad to have gotten away when he could have; although the drizzling rain was no consolation either.

Well, it wouldn't have been until something froze him dead in his tracks. Someone was singing at the top of their lungs, louder than the mixture of rain and conversation; more precisely Loki Odinson was singing at the top of his lungs, and what sounded like the Rolling Stones' _Wild Horses_.

Tony whipped his head from side to side, signaled to where Loki was by a chorus of individuals crying out his name. And that's when he looked up to the theater's roof to see his idol pacing the length of the building, rain-soaked, while somehow maintaining perfect control over his voice, even though he was singing way louder than absolutely necessary.

On further inspection of the scene, Tony realized the people who'd been shouting Loki's name weren't awestruck fans, but Phil, Thor, and Sif. They were clamored near the building, although they were far enough to maintain an eye on him as he continued to sing and make abrupt and jerky gestures.

The better half of the crowd seemed oblivious to this revelation; mostly due to the fact that they were probably already half-drunk and stoned to care. And the few who noticed this development, could only gape at Loki who then propped his foot onto the ledge and threw his arms back as he hit a particularly high note.

Without even considering the possibility that he was an unwelcome presence, Tony shoved his way through the people in his path, and jogged across the lot to where the trio was standing. There was a hushed and angry conversation going on between Thor and Phil, which didn't let up as he approached. But it grew an octave louder as Loki leaned forward and came very close to losing his balance; and god only knew how he'd look if he fell from two stories.

"Loki, get down from there right now!" Sif screamed shrilly. "Get the hell down, you lunatic!"

But those words fell on deaf ears; Loki continued singing like he hadn't a care in the world, which was completely out of character for him. Even after their little chat, Tony knew this wasn't normal behavior for the elusive singer; regardless of his petulant behavior when it came to tea, _English tea_ , he knew it was off-kilter even for him.

And god only knew Tony shouldn't have been elated, once Loki started singing _For Yasgur's Farm_ ; since that was the song that had been playing when he begged Hogun for this gig. But his better sense was momentarily compromised as Loki swayed to Leslie West's non-existent guitar solo, and almost doubled over backwards as the words thundered out of his mouth.

"What's going on?" Tony asked in a hushed tone, garnering only a fraction of Sif's attention.

"We couldn't find Lo," she paused, taking in a deep breath. "So we thought he went off on his own again. But then he climbed up there and something's wrong, daddy-o. Something is really, really wrong."

"Son of a bitch," Phil suddenly hollered, chasing after Thor who already ran towards the building. "You two stay here! He's trying to climb onto the ledge now!"

Just as Phil said before he disappeared inside, Loki was in the midst of climbing onto the ledge and shakily at that. Tony's heart stopped for a beat, no longer falling underneath the spell that Loki's voice usually entwined around him. He was scared shitless as Loki stood to his full height, which was well over six feet, and opened his arms in a messiah-like gesture.

Sif let out a startled cry, grasping onto Tony's rain-soaked jacket; but neither of them could take their eyes off the display in front of them. Even as Loki teetered and began to sing another song, particularly a Janis Joplin one, even louder than he'd down previously; their eyes remained glued onto him. And it seemed as if finally the rest of the crowd had gotten the memo, and were now gathering around them.

Confused and giddy voices surrounded them; someone even yelled in encouragement, may it be for Loki's singing or his impending fall was not necessarily clear. But whatever the reason, it still made Tony sick to his stomach; Loki was clearly not in his right mind, since he was unaffected by the crowd, the rain, or even his imbalance.

The power of his own vocal range was only contributing to his imbalance; and because Loki was the type of singer that was compelled to move and writhe, bordering on sexual, it was only steering the reality of a fatal fall further into the realm of possibility.

To add insult to injury, the crowd began to sing along; they hooted and howled as Loki started to rip at his own shirt, snapping the buttons, and exposing his torso which seemed to be his trademark now. Sif pinned Tony with a stare that was terrified; tears shone in her eyes, as if struck by the realization that things were about to turn south if Thor and Phil didn't get onto the roof in time.

"He's going to fall," Sif gasped and was quick to bury her face into Tony's shoulder.

Loki swayed so close to the edge, Tony tried to prepare himself for the inevitable. It was bound to happen; Loki's left foot seemed to raise a fraction of an inch, and that's when Thor pounced out of nowhere and grabbed onto Loki. Screams of surprise erupted from the crowd, coinciding with Sif digging her nails into Tony's arm, and disrupting Loki's singing indefinitely.

Thor wrestled Loki out of sight, and Tony released the breath he hadn't even known he'd been holding in the first place. His heart pounded wildly for several long minutes, before it threatened to pick up speed as Thor hauled Loki to his feet and into Phil's awaiting arms. Super manager looped a possessive arm around Loki's waist, before they staggered several paces and disappeared from the crowd's watchful eye.

"It's okay, he's okay," Tony sighed. "Thor got him."

"Thank god," Sif trembled against him, still keeping her face pressed into his shoulder. "He almost gave me a heart attack. My heart's in my throat."

"Yeah, I know," he said but quickly regretted it by the inquisitive look Sif sent his way.

Before the situation could escalate into the realm of discomfort, suddenly the theater's backdoor was flung open by Thor's hulking figure; he held the door open for several long seconds, tense and irritated but mostly worried, until Phil steered Loki out into the awaiting rain.

The groupies and the hanger-ons looked as if they were about to broach the distance, but one look from Thor kept them at bay. Lightning practically rolled off of him, daring anyone to get close enough to get electrocuted, and living up to his namesake. But that didn't deter Sif from dragging him towards the group, shooting Thor a look that blatantly asked what was going on.

Thor only shook his head in response, following close behind Phil who held steadfast on Loki. Loki was shooting out hellos to people, being strangely personable for someone who refused to exchange pleasantries with his bus mates, and spent much of his time holed up in his bunk.

It took a considerable amount of time for Phil to drag Loki away from a random person in the crowd, to the point where Thor had to intervene and push them towards the tour bus. Although the party was still in flung swing as Tony followed them inside the bus; in fact, it was more congested than it had been beforehand.

Phil had to fight against the tide, although the leeches were already trying to cling to Loki like a second skin; regardless of the fact he was soaked to the bone, and was hardly making sense whenever he did grace the world with a few words.

"Out, everybody out," Phil yelled, practically snarled really, as he continued onward. "The party is over!"

Several disgruntled murmurs were the only reply, albeit the roadies were quick on their feet. They began to manually pull people towards the front of the bus; many fought but most dejectedly went along without putting up any unnecessary ruckus. But plenty of the overzealous groupies weren't about to leave without a struggle, and put up a valiant one at that.

"Fandral, kiss your friend goodbye. Now," Phil demanded, almost tumbling over at Loki's insistence on leaning towards his fellow band mate.

"Hello love," Loki said, in a way that could only be described as seductive and completely out of character.

Before Fandral could say anything at all, Loki plastered his mouth against his, doing so in a way that was almost indecent. And maybe Fandral had too many drinks, since he returned it after a few swipes of Loki's tongue. But the lip-lock was quickly disengaged by Phil roughly yanking Loki away, who only laughed manically in return.

"Bloody hell, that bastard can kiss," Fandral exclaimed, pushing away the redhead he'd been entertaining into one of the passing roadies' arms. "Maybe if you kept that stick out of your arse, you'd have a better time, Loki."

"I'll tell you what I prefer up my-"

"Brother that is enough!" Thor hollered, shoving Loki and Phil towards the back of the bus. "Put him to bed now!"

Phil managed to direct Loki towards the row of bunk-beds, leaving behind the round-up of unwelcome guests for the roadies and Thor alike. Tony pressed himself into the familiar nook between the communal area and bunks, taking a brief moment to sort through the twists and turns of the day.

His heart was still thrumming uncomfortably in his chest; he couldn't really pinpoint why. He wished he could say it was because Loki had almost fallen to his death, while singing _Piece of My Heart_ ; but he was becoming keenly aware of the fact, there was more to it than that. Despite being completely, unflappably heterosexual, Tony couldn't help but feel a heaviness in the pit of his stomach when he saw Loki kiss Fandral.

It was ridiculous, really. He should have been far more concerned about that whole potentially dying thing; and yet he could only focus on the past few minutes. He was so consumed by it, to the point that he disregarded the ruckus around him, which seemed to be growing more chaotic with each moment.

The last remaining groupies were unceremoniously tossed off the bus, and then Thor was shouting expletives and so was Sif. They were in the midst of a heated argument, but Tony barely spared them a look. Even when they accused the other of not watching Loki, which was beside the point; since Loki was capable of taking himself, well for the most part; whatever happened tonight didn't really count.

"And now the goddamn reporter has quite the story!" Thor suddenly exploded, drawing everyone's attention onto him; Tony's included. "Odin's Sons' leader singer drugged up and kissing men! Why don't we just put Loki in a dress and send him prancing onto the stage!"

"That's the least of your worries, Thor!" Sif snapped back. "Your biggest problem is finding out what happened with Loki, and if some dumb slut gave him something! Because I guarantee you, he would not have done it on his own; someone slipped him something! He almost died because of it! And for the record, you can bet Tony won't write a fucking word about it; he's not some asshole like you make him out to be!"

"Both of you be quiet," Phil reappeared, looking haggard and unkempt; his usual tidy suit was askew and wet from tussling with Loki. "Fighting over this isn't going to help anyone, especially Loki. So I suggest you two stop while you're ahead. Tomorrow we'll get all the answers we need from the source. And I expect you to omit this whole unfortunate affair from your article, Mr. Stark."

Tony felt momentarily affronted; of course he was the enemy in a variety of ways, but that didn't mean he was about to air out his favorite band's dirty laundry. Hell, he liked to do it a lot when it came to some of the local bands he featured; although Hogun was quick to strike his mention of a leader singer's cocaine use, because as he put it – defamation claims. But he'd never do it to Odin's Sons, more specifically Loki.

"Hear no evil, see no evil," he repeated his previous response from the last time Phil demanded he omit something; although his response was by far fiercer than it had been beforehand.

No one seemed to have noticed, though. Tony wouldn't have cared if they did or not; there were too many conflicting emotions going off in his head. The most prevalent certainly had to do with the fact, in so little terms, that he might very well have feelings for another guy. But not just any guy either, but Loki fucking Odinson. The same guy James had jokingly told him to marry; the same one he practically worshiped and got tongue-tied over.

He carded his fingers through his damp hair, trying to banish those thoughts, and keep himself involved in the fray around him. Because if he let himself follow his stupid heart, he knew damn well that he would be climbing into Loki's bunk right about now and possessively wrapping his arms around him just like Phil had.


	11. Chapter Ten :: Las Vegas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter ended up being far longer than I intended it to; although I feel like my pacing is kind of fast nonetheless. But I hope not too badly. And please overlook any errors at the moment (I should be in bed, since I do have work in the morning rather than writing, lol).
> 
> Anyway the Beatles' song mentioned at the end of the chapter is "While My Guitar Gently Weeps".

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**Chapter Ten :: Las Vegas**

 

 

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Loki hadn't left his bunk in two days. Tony knew because he'd observed the area vigilantly, only leaving his post to either find food, relieve himself, or sit down to interview the rest of the band. But those interludes were brief; the longest had been an hour and he'd barely slept a wink just in case the elusive rock god emerged from his hiding spot.

He waited and waited, prayed for the briefest moment at four o'clock in the morning when he was a bit sleep delirious and rock hard (because really he didn't believe in God anyway); and yet Loki still hadn't appeared. No one had even attempted to lure him out either, as if they understood Loki needed that reprieve from the rest of them after that debacle in Seattle.

Even so, Tony couldn't help but want him to come out. He hadn't been that worried sick about anyone since he'd found about his parents' divorce, and found his mother black-out drunk in her own vomit. And Loki's self-destructive behavior, uncharacteristic as it had been, had struck a chord in him; which was only emphasized by the twisting and unusual emotions associated with the older man.

Regardless of everything pointing to the inevitable, Tony continued to ignore what he felt for the most part. Which was becoming harder to do, when there was at least one wet dream to add to his list of perpetual denials; and his mind was filled with only thoughts of Loki on top of it all.

Everything else seemed inconsequential in comparison, and he hated that. He wasn't the falling in love type, never had a desire to when his parents set such a great example for it. Not to mention the idea of falling in love with another man was both confusing and terrifying. But he told himself, mantra-like for several hours at one point, that it wasn't love but admiration, idol worship.

Idol worship was normal; after all, he loved Odin's Sons. They were his favorite band and much of that was contributed to Loki's voice. So that had to be the reason behind all those confusing feelings; albeit, he had other things to worry about. The biggest issue was Loki's health and if he would ever emerge from his bunk.

They had already been in Las Vegas for several hours; the rest of the tour bus's inhabitants had left once they stopped. But even when they drew to a halt, Loki hadn't stirred. No one, not even Phil, deemed it appropriate to announce their arrival to their missing singer; instead they filed off the bus en route to their hotel room booked at the Tropicana. It was one of the few luxuries Phil afforded to the band, since living on a bus for several days at a time started to make you feel inhuman.

Tony felt the same way and had briefly contemplated leaving his post. He would have loved to shower in something bigger than a broom closet, and stretch his legs in a place that was wider than it was narrow. And yet here he was, eyes glued to the farthest bunk, waiting for something to happen.

The only thing that did happen, which made him whip around towards the front of the bus, was someone reentering the bus and calling his name. Phil appeared by his bunk, hands on his hips, wearing a light gray suit with a floral patterned shirt underneath it.

"Did you have something shipped to the theater?" Phil asked in means of a greeting, sparing Loki's bunk with a brief glance. "Because I just got a telephone call about it,"

"Something shipped?" Tony repeated, before the fuzziness in his mind suddenly sharpened. "Oh, oh; yeah I did!"

He quickly scrambled to his feet, forcing Phil to back-up lest he be mowed over. He had almost forgot about his deal with Obie, and how the guy was enthused to ship out the many crates of tea just so he would have room to actually hold meetings in his conference room again.

"Mind helping me with a few things, Super Manager?" Tony motioned for Phil to follow him out of the bus; although both of them shot hopeful stares in the occupied bunk's direction.

"If it's anything illegal the answer's no," Phil replied, while they both climbed out of the bus and into the smoldering Nevada heat.

"If you'd call making tea illegal, and since you're an all American boy, I figure you know that isn't against the laws of the land."

"Why are you going to make tea?"

"Listen, Sup," Tony spun around, holding up both hands. "I promised Loki that I could get him authentic English tea. So I pulled some strings and that's what I had shipped to the theater. And since I don't have a tea kettle at my disposal, I figured you were the man to go to. Besides, maybe we can lure him out of his hermit abode, you know before sound check."

Phil eyed him almost warily, but motioned Tony to follow him in the direction of the theater. The tour bus had to be parked in an empty lot a block away; which wouldn't have been a big problem if it wasn't hotter than hell. It was the kind of hot that made Tony wilt and yearn for a garden hose; since being high underneath the stream of a garden hose was as close to heaven as anyone could get.

He and James had done that a lot the previous summer; when they weren't futilely chasing after the ice cream truck. In fact, Tony could only recall one time that they had actually caught up with it; and even then they had been shoved around by a group of unruly kids, who had taken full advantage of their compromised state.

"I can find you everything you'll need. But I won't be able to help with making the tea; I suggest you ask either Amelia or Thor. Because they'd be the ones who'd know what Loki prefers; and let's just say Loki would find a poor excuse for tea more insulting than having no tea at all." Phil said as they continued towards the theater.

"You seem to know the guy pretty well though," Tony quirked an eyebrow, recalling how possessive Phil acted towards Loki; especially when he almost plunged to his death.

"Loki's the only reason I chose to represent Odin's Sons, but omit-"

"This conversation is off the record, Sup. So you don't have to even go there."

"Right, well any manager would have jumped at the opportunity to represent a band with Loki at the helm. Trust me, there were several managers fighting to represent them; I just was lucky enough to be invited to London around the time they began to gain steam." Phil explained in a flat inflection.

"But you wouldn't have represented them otherwise, you know with Thor as lead singer?"

"Thor has a unique voice, decent enough. But he doesn't have that star power that Loki does. And that's why those two fight so frequently; Thor knows, deep down, that Odin's Sons wouldn't have reached this level of success without Loki."

"I figured as much," Tony hummed, as they turned a corner and walked up the street to the theater.

There were already people on line, a good thirty or forty by his estimation. Most of them were women, wearing those ridiculous floppy hats that only appeared appropriate on Sif, and oversized Elvis Presley glasses that covered up most of their faces. And one of those faces was familiar, so familiar that Tony almost faltered in his steps had it not been for Phil continuing to walk purposely towards the entrance.

Standing at the head of the line, wearing both floppy hat and oversized sunglasses, and a pair of white hot pants that exposed the swell of her buttocks almost artistically (because only a great painter could have created something that perfect) was none other than Natasha. Her two friends were standing beside her, fanning themselves with paper fans, and unaware of his presence so far.

Tony swallowed hard, bowing his head as they drew nearer. Phil ignored the line of fans as he strode to the theater's doors and knocked twice. That action spurred everyone's interest on line and Tony knew he was caught without even having to turn around to see.

"Well, well, if it isn't Rolling Stone's premiere reporter," Natasha drawled, almost on the verge of being downright nasty.

"And if it isn't Los Angeles own, little cock sucker," Tony blurted out, pinning her with a stoic expression. "Not to be confused with the best one, since the best would have gotten the leader singer instead of the bassist."

Scandalized gasps erupted from Natasha's friends, but that was the only thing Tony heard since he was being shoved, not very gently either, into the theater. Phil glowered at him as he shut the door behind them, before crossing the lobby towards a small corridor, and into a shabby looking office with green shag carpet.

Sitting next to the desk were two crates with a logo splashed across the sides. Phil approached the crates and managed to yank the lid off and peered inside. He reached in and extracted a box of tea, before tossing it in Tony's direction.

"Head over to the Tropicana, room 427," Phil said. "I'll have the kettle and water on the tour bus, by the time you get Amelia."

"Aye, aye, Sup," he saluted.

"And Stark, I suggest you keep away from that girl. She looks like trouble."

"All groupies are trouble, Sup. But that one has her baby blues on Loki." He clucked his tongue, tossing the box of tea into the air and catching it again.

"Stay away from her," Phil repeated.

Tony saluted again, before retracing his steps without Super Manager on his heels. Even as he walked out of the theater, he heeded Phil's words and didn't provoke Natasha any further; despite her nasty stare and an unsavory insult spewed in his direction.

After all, he had already won the war; Natasha hadn't even met Loki, whereas he lived on the same bus as him, had even gotten an eyeful of him when he slithered out of his bunk-bed. And well, he was about to, hopefully, win him over with a pot of genuine English tea. That was more than Natasha would ever be able to accomplish.

Hurrying through the busy streets, filled to its capacity with tourists, Tony made his way to the Tropicana that stood along the Strip. He jogged through the doors, all the way through the lounge, and into one of the awaiting elevators.

There was a family of four already inside and he wasn't exactly surprised that they looked offended by him. His hair was a mess, sticking up every which way, and while he did a fairly good job of trimming his newly grown goatee and mustache, he still nicked the hell out of his left cheek. But at least he was clean, since he showered that morning when he was sure Loki wasn't coming out for air anytime soon.

Once the elevator slid to a halt on the fourth floor, Tony graced the family with the cheekiest grin he could muster, off-handedly mentioning something about an orgy underway, and galloped out onto the floor, feeling like genuine, no filler, Tony Stark again.

He ran through the hallway, before slowing to a halt in front of room 427, and knocking loudly. It took several moments before Sif answered the door, looking fresher than a daisy in a yellow sundress and her hair pulled back into a high ponytail. She smiled brightly at him, as if she'd been waiting for him to give up his vigil inside of the bus.

"Daddy-o," she greeted him, opening up the door further.

"You live in England, so you know how to make tea the proper way. And you probably know how to make it the way Loki likes it. So will you come back to the bus and help me out? Super Manager is getting the tea kettle and the teacup and saucers as we speak." He tossed the box of tea into the air, before catching it, and presenting it to Sif. "Pretty please,"

"Is this how you usually are? Or is this a sleep deprivation thing?" She asked, taking the box from him, and examining it.

"I'm just getting comfortable with you. I know, finally."

"You're trying to lure Loki out,"

"That and I already promised him tea in exchange for an interview." He pressed his hands together as if in prayer. "Please, pretty please."

Sif rolled her eyes as she slipped back into the hotel room, and returned with the key in hand. That was good sign; a better one when she followed him into the corridor and towards the elevator. And in no time flat, they were wadding through all the tourists who were snapping pictures along the Strip, regardless of the hellish heat.

Soon enough they were back onto the tour bus, where the necessary tools of the trade were already spread out onto the table. Phil, super manager extraordinaire, had a knack for getting things done fast and efficiently. And he hadn't spared any expense on getting a nice tea-set either; but Tony was beginning to suspect the worse, which dampened his mood considerably.

Of course, he had an inkling for some time now that Loki's vocal range and star power wasn't the only thing that interested good 'ol Phil. But Tony couldn't really blame him either; since he'd fallen underneath whatever spells Loki had woven too.

That, however, was only a secondary concern at the moment. Tony slipped into the opposite bench from Sif, watching her as she started to make, what could only be described, as a proper cup of tea. It didn't look hard in retrospect, but when she began adding milk and a bit of sugar, Tony figured he'd leave it to her to make any future cups for Loki. Besides he was more of a coffee guy anyway.

"One cup of tea," Sif motioned at her handiwork, openly laughing at him undoubtedly for his ignorance. "I think I'll leave you to lure him out. And let me know that he's okay, all right. I'm sure he is and that's why he hasn't come out of hiding. But it would be nice to have confirmation nonetheless."

"You'll be the first one I talk to," he nodded solemnly, before smiling. "Thanks; my ignorant American ass couldn't make a good cup of tea if my life depended on it."

"Well, my American ass was fortunate enough to travel," she grinned, before slipping out of the booth. "I'll leave it to you then, daddy-o."

Tony watched her go, before he got to his feet; he counted back from ten and then walked towards Loki's bunk. He could smell something fresh and the splash of cologne Loki was known for; which led him to believe that the sneaky bastard had slipped into the shower, when he was sure that he was alone.

Swallowing down any of his reservations, he tapped on the wooden side of Loki's bunk, and waited for any reply. But he wasn't graced with one; so he tapped again before he cleared his throat, and launched into a ramble.

"Hey, uh, I have a cup of tea for you. You know authentic English tea like I promised you. And Sif made it the way you liked it, so you don't have to worry about me botching it up. But don't worry; she headed out after she made it." He swallowed again, struck by nervousness.

His nerves continued to get the best of him, since no reply was forthcoming. In fact, it felt like a small eternity that he stood outside of Loki's bunk; which, in turn, made him feel like a huge fool. He was close to cursing himself for even trying to lure Loki out of his self-imposed isolation, until the curtains slowly parted to reveal his idol.

Loki peered at him warily, looking oddly timid and so beautiful that it stole Tony's breath away. His hair was wet and several strands fell into his face; he wasn't wearing a shirt, big surprise, but it didn't go unappreciated by Tony who swiped his eyes over the expansion of lily white skin that probably hadn't seen a whole day of sunlight ever.

"Where are the others?" Loki whispered gruffly.

"Not on the bus," Tony murmured, in a way that he would if he were trying to lure a baby deer. "It's safe to come out now. No interview today either just tea,"

Loki hesitated for a split-second, before he slid open the curtains, and climb out of his sanctuary. But not before Tony inwardly cursed himself for staring at the older man from head to toe. Loki was again wearing a tight pair of jeans and nothing else; they were unbuttoned and unzipped, exposing that teasing strip of hair that disappeared downwards, and made Tony's mind short-circuit.

Luckily he had somewhere else to focus his attention on and quickly moved towards the booth and the awaiting cup of tea. Loki was not far behind and slid onto the bench with a feline-like ease; he eyed the cup and its accompanying saucer for several terse moments, before he picked it up and took a small sip.

"Real English tea, right," Tony said, sitting down with an audible thump.

"Hmm, yes," Loki returned, almost on the verge of pleasant.

"Good, I'm glad,"

"That interview," Loki took another sip, before placing the teacup back onto the saucer. "I suppose I should get it over with now."

"Like I said no interview today; but I did have a question about, you know, Seattle. But you don't have to answer it; I mean this is just curiosity. It's not like I'm going to write about it."

"There's nothing to say. I was offered something, I took it." Loki crinkled his nose, almost disdainfully.

Tony found any response that he might have had die on his lips. Sif had said, during that explosive argument with Thor that Loki wouldn't have taken anything willingly. She also said that he would have had to have been drugged; but Loki had all but destroyed that hypothesis.

By no means would Tony ever say he knew Loki. The man was an utter mystery; but from the brief insight he had of him, Loki wasn't even privy to drinking. His only vice had seemed to be smoking, and even then he only smoked a cigarette or two a day instead of an entire pack. So this was unexpected.

"Sif said-"

"What did Amelia say?" Loki brought the teacup back to his lips without taking a drink. "That I wasn't one for taking anything hazardous to my health?"

"Something along those lines, yes,"

"Amelia is naïve. Sometimes one has to forget in order to survive." Loki uttered, on the verge of being heartbreaking. "That day, well it wasn't a very good day. But don't ask for any more than that, Tony Stark. I don't discuss my personal issues with anyone, let alone a boy with a tape recorder."

Even though it was a blatant insult, but not far from the mark, Tony didn't find any offense in it. Not when he was faced with a sudden flash of pain on his idol's face that was so palpable, that his first reaction was to reach over and cup Loki's cheek and tell him that everything would be okay.

"My mom's an alcoholic," Tony blurted out, as if it would be some consolation if they commiserated. "Not the kind you can live with either. Like the piss-drunk kind that you have to check on every few hours to make sure she hasn't choked on her own vomit."

Loki stared at him with no discernible look on his face, which only compelled Tony to spew more inconsequential stuff about himself out. Since maybe then Loki wouldn't look at him like he was the enemy in the band's midst.

"She wasn't always like that, except when good 'ol dad divorced her. Left her for a younger woman, a model actually; and he left her with nothing. Just a couple of bucks for a modest house, which you'd think would be nice. But not for someone who lived in a fucking mansion for eighteen years." He cracked a smile, turning his attention to the tabletop. "So she drinks to forget. She drinks because as she puts it – you remind me of your bastard father and I can't stand it."

Several terse moments passed, which made Tony realize what a huge faux pas he had made. Of course, Loki wouldn't be interested in his sob story; and in a way, he had given himself away. Not many twenty-one year old reporters were still overly concerned about their drunken mothers and bastard fathers. Then again, Loki hadn't necessarily believed his lie from the get-go.

"I don't drink," Loki said slowly, deliberately. "I'm afraid of what I'll do; although I made quite a spectacle of myself anyway despite my attempts to the contrary. Death just wouldn't have me this time around; so I suppose I'll continue this dreadful tour until I'm haggard and voiceless."

Despite the severity of those words, Loki grinned in a way that was so natural that it had Tony grinning too. And it was in that moment, regardless of what he tried to tell himself, Tony knew that he had fallen hopelessly and madly in love with Loki.

And why try and fight it anymore?

"Strange American boy," Loki uttered suddenly.

"Crazy, pasty Englishman," Tony blurted out, but found that he didn't regret it at all; not when Loki chuckled in a way that made his heart soar.

"A sight to behold, you and I,"

"At least I wear clothes. Maybe you could take a page from my book."

"Ah and why would I do that? You wouldn't have anywhere to stare." Loki smirked, standing, and taking his teacup with him. "Once your tongue has been untied, perhaps you can come up with a decent lie. Until then, I suppose I should get ready to sing."

Tony gaped stupidly after Loki, thrown through a loop. His heart stopped for the briefest moments, only to speed up at the soft singing that wafted through the air. And if he hadn't already come to the horrifying realization that he was in love with Loki, then he certainly knew when Loki began singing one of his favorite Beatles' songs, in such a delicate voice that it could only be intended to romance someone.

And Tony was completely and utterly stricken; he was in love.


	12. Chapter Eleven :: Las Vegas II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly, I have no clue what I'm doing anymore. I'm just writing at this point. XD But thank you for all the support; you guys are the best!

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**Chapter Eleven :: Las Vegas II**

 

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Murderous was not an emotion Tony Stark was familiar with; despite having an emotionally absent father and an alcoholic mother, he had a decent hold on his feelings. After all, being raised in such an environment demanded mental toughness; which was only reinforced by his superior intellect and the knowledge, from a very early age, that he was far different compared to his peers.

So this was a new sensation, which coincided with the revelation that he was in love. And in a way Tony supposed that murderous went hand-in-hand with love; people killed others or even themselves in the name of love. He knew because it was always on the evening newscast; but he also knew intellectually that heightened emotion resulted in thoughtless action; which would explain, partially anyway, his desire to rip Natasha's head off.

Even though Tony was aware of how indecent the situation was, he found himself rooted to the spot. It was like a horrific car collision, in the fact that he couldn't take his eyes off of it even if he tried. Something rooted him to the spot, in between the theater and an adjoining building, as he watched Loki fucking Odinson lean against a brick wall, eyes drifting skyward then downward to watch groupie extraordinaire suck him off.

Natasha was on her knees, regardless of the dirty alleyway, bobbing her head in time with the obscene slurping noises she was making. One hand was wrapped around the base of Loki's cock, while the other one had forced its way underneath the hem of his tightly fitted black oxford, and was stroking the muscles that Tony only dreamt of touching.

Loki slowly rolled his hips, in a way Tony could only describe as liquid sex, as his eyes shut with unshakeable pleasure. His mouth opened a fraction of an inch, enough to let out a melodic sound that made every hair on Tony's neck stand at attention. And regrettably so, it stirred something below his belt too; despite being so angry that he really could have killed Natasha for invoking such sounds and movements from Loki.

It burned him to the very core. Tony had been so damn cocky that he had won the war between him and Natasha; and yet she had somehow stolen the victory from right underneath his nose. She had used that pseudo-charm on someone again, maybe even performed the same action on a roadie to get anywhere near the band; and somehow, she'd gotten Loki to follow her into that private little nook, to drop trou, and attacked his cock with her ruby red lips.

This was the ultimate checkmate; Tony had little to show for by being in close vicinity with Loki for a solid week. He had barely exchanged words with the man, and when he had they felt hollow and inconsequential; teasing even. And he tried so hard; he'd even dealt with Obie calling him Baby Howard every few minutes just to get two crates of shitty English tea.

Murderous slowly turned to betrayal, which ebbed towards heartbreak; and Tony just wanted to run away. He didn't care anymore about the article, the inevitable interview; Hogun had already been annoyed by the fact that he took it upon himself to go on tour with Odin's Sons, even though it had hardly been surprising. So if he got onto a Greyhound tonight, sans Loki's interview, he would still be able to appease Hogun anyway.

And that was precisely what he decided he'd do. He'd find the nearest bus station, buy a ticket, and even if he had to sleep in the station overnight he'd do it. He had hit his limit and he would be damned if he put himself through unneeded emotional turmoil. If he wanted to do that, he'd be at home watching his mother writhe with sobs on the floor, vomiting up everything she drank, and then scream at him for being so much like Howard it drove her to hit the bottle.

Unable to rip his eyes away from the scene, Tony managed to take a step backwards, and that's when Loki's eyes rolled open again and suddenly caught his. The sudden shock was enough to freeze him to the spot; he swore for a split-second that Loki might actually shove Natasha away in order to beat the shit out of him. But instead, Loki only quirked his eyebrows in something like confusion, before he uttered out an expletive and looked downwards at Natasha.

That brief reprieve was enough to force Tony to move; he almost tripped over his own two feet in order to flee. And now, more than ever, he knew he wanted to find the closest bus station; he needed to. He rushed towards the tour bus which had been relocated beside the theater, where he'd left his belongings in, and ignored the many hanger-ons that were mulling around and chit-chatting with the roadies.

Determinedly he climbed onto the bus, assaulted by the same sort of fans; and if to make the matter even worse, he was greeted by the sight of Maria and Peggy. Natasha's two friends were wrapped gaudily around Volstagg and Fandral respectively, giggling at whatever narrative the two band members were telling.

Tony felt that murderous ripple inside of him again, especially when Maria graced him with a smirk that could only be described as knowing. She knew where Natasha was and that was enough of a reason to gloat; even though Tony had already stumbled across the scene midway through.

Ignoring the greetings that Volstagg and Fandral threw his way, he forced his way towards the row of bunk-beds and ripped open the curtains to his own bunk, and grabbed his shoulder bag. He strapped it across his body, which took several tries since his hands were shaking; before he rushed back through the bus and leapt down from the steps.

He picked a direction, one that led to the Strip, and strode down the sidewalk. There would have to be a bus station somewhere off the Strip; or in the very least there were enough people to ask. But all he really cared about at that moment was separating himself from the situation entirely.

Except fate, or whatever fucked up new age bullshit was against him. Tony stopped in his tracks, almost colliding with a screaming Sif who bolted out of an alleyway, followed by none other than Loki. Loki was in the midst of buckling his belt, looking both surprised and exasperated, since Sif was screaming at the top of her lungs, and drawing attention from people on other side of the street.

"Are you really that stupid?" Sif yelled, throwing her arms up in anger. "She's been after you since the first show! I know because I ran into her that first day on line!"

"Will you lower your voice?" Loki practically hissed.

"Why? Is it because you're actually ashamed of yourself for letting her suck your dick in a dirty alleyway? Or have you finally realized how stupid you are?"

"How does this concern you in any way?"

"Oh I don't know, because you've been acting unlike yourself more and more! This isn't the Loki I know at all!" Sif shrieked so loudly, Tony flinched from the sound.

But this was not a situation he wanted to get wrangled into; whatever reason this was unfolding was none of his business or even his concern for that matter. Stepping off of the sidewalk, since Sif and Loki had taken up all the available space, Tony tried to walk past them quickly and without being noticed. Of course, he was also wasn't delusional enough to believe he'd developed the ability of invisibility within a five minute period.

So when both their heads whipped around to stare at him, he just kept on walking. He hurried his steps when Sif called out to him, and almost started to run when he heard footsteps behind him. Because the last thing he needed was Sif to pry, no less when she was reacting as badly to Loki's encounter with Natasha as he wanted to.

"Daddy-o, where are you going? We're going to be leaving in the next few hours!" Sif was already sidled beside him, but he refused to look at her. "What's wrong?"

"I got what I needed," Tony said stiffly, gripping onto the strap across his chest.

"You interviewed Loki?"

"He has not." Loki muttered, which almost stopped Tony in his tracks again.

He hadn't expected Loki to follow after them; although he could easily assume that it was because of Sif instead of any withstanding concern for him. Which meant if he could get Sif away, then Loki would follow suit; and they were the last two people he wanted to be in company with.

"How are you going to write your article without speaking to Loki?"

"Simple," Tony shot Sif a lethal glare. "I can paint him as a hell of an elusive guy, which will have the ladies hot and bothered. Because isn't that the goal, after all?"

"Where are you going?"

"I'm going to the nearest bus station and I'm going home! I have an article to write! So nice to meet you, it was fun! Goodbye!" Tony snapped.

Maybe it was the anger in his voice, or maybe it was the look on his face; either way Sif halted and let him barrel down the street without following him. And he couldn't help but feel infinitely grateful that she'd gotten the message.

Tony turned the corner, drawing nearer to the Strip, and felt the knot inside of his gut start to unravel and force those horribly messy emotions to the surface. He tried to reel them in, because Tony Stark didn't cry and he wasn't about to cry over a stupid crush. Particularly when he thought about how much of a _bastard_ Loki could be; and he'd be damned if he acted on the same lines as a love-struck teenaged girl.

"So you'll be returning home to your lush of a mother, and a halfway decent article?" Loki was suddenly beside him, hands stuffed into the pockets of his far too tight trousers, and looking ahead as if they were on a pleasant stroll. "For someone whom I consider a perfectionist, due to your superior intellect, I imagine writing an article without all the facts will eventually frustrate you, which in turn will lead to regret."

White hot anger roiled through Tony; the homicidal part of him, wanted to shove Loki into traffic and see how well he'd fair. But the sentimental, sappy part of him wanted to latch onto him and never let him go. Thankfully, neither of those sides won out.

Instead Tony continued to walk without breaking his stride; there had to be a bus station nearby or someone who looked like they actually lived there instead of a camera wielding tourist. He wound himself further into the crowd but was followed still by Loki, who was apparently content on suddenly becoming his new buddy after he was thoroughly blown by Natasha.

"Two hours of my time," Loki announced abruptly.

"What?"

"Two hours of my time, uninterrupted."

"I don't need it, but thanks anyway." Tony replied surprised by how stoic he sounded when he was anything but.

"Three,"

"My drunken mother sounds better than that."

"Three hours, I sing whatever you like. For you and you alone," Loki eyed him intensely, as if he was neither one for bargaining or pleading and it was a privilege to have him do so.

Tony ceased to walk and Loki did almost at the exact time, down to the second. They were almost synchronized, which carried onto how they stared at one another; and god if Tony didn't realize how much he loved him beforehand, begrudgingly so of course, he knew without a doubt when Loki stared at him like that.

"Why the hell do you even care?" He managed to ask. "Unless you think I'm going to smear the hell out of you in my article; which, by the way, I'm not."

"You intrigue me." Loki said simply, before shrugging his shoulders. "You're far smarter and observant than everyone else. I hadn't realized how pleasant it would be to have someone similarly around. Or maybe I'm just lying; but you'll never know otherwise if you run off, now would you?"

Full-blown lust superseded his previous emotions, once Loki smiled at him in a way that it reached his eyes. The small crinkles around his eyes were probably the most attractive thing about it, and warmed Tony to the bone.

God did he hate him.

Wordlessly Loki tilted his head in the direction that they came, not waiting to see if Tony would follow him; and he really didn't have to, because the bastard had hit his weak spot. Even if his better judgment told him to get lost in the crowd and look for the nearest Greyhound station, his emotionally compromised side had him following after Loki like a lovesick puppy.

And maybe it was just paranoia, but Tony was convinced that Loki knew he had an irreversible hold on him. If he was a genius as he appeared to be, which Tony believed he was, then he would have had to know he had Tony hook, line, and sinker.

Someone had finally gotten the infamous Tony Stark to feel; feel so many emotions of high intensity in such a short period of time that it was beyond reason. James would have been shocked stupid, since quite frankly Tony was on the same wavelength.

Loki fucking Odinson had made him a compliant little asshole. He had somehow tamed him with a brilliant smile, beautiful voice, and promises of hours uninterrupted between them, and even a promise to sing for him. And Tony was stupid enough to fall for it all.


	13. Chapter Twelve :: Phoenix

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been pretty overwhelmed by how many of you have been enjoying this story. So I just want to thank you all for reading, leaving kudos, bookmarking, and especially leaving your feedback. It really makes my day and I hope you enjoy this chapter!

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**Chapter Twelve :: Phoenix**

 

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Tony trusted Loki as far as he could throw him; and since he wasn't a professional Englishman pitcher, once the tour bus arrived in Phoenix, he found the nearest Greyhound station and bought a ticket to Los Angeles the day after Odin's Sons' gig.

Maybe there was a small part of him that wanted to believe Loki, although his common sense relentlessly reminded him of how slippery the bastard could be. Loki had a knack for avoiding any and all people; somehow he'd even done so in a confined space, where it was literally impossible to be alone for more than five minutes, let alone days at a time.

So he hadn't expected to see Loki at the table with a guitar case at his feet, smoking a cigarette, and reading a piece of paper with an odd sort of intensity that he only seemed to bestow onto Tony most of the time. In fact, he looked completely enthralled to the point where he didn't even notice Tony at all.

Only when Tony paused beside the table, did he look up and blink several times in means of a greeting. But there was something off about his expression, more so than that elusive and detached one he was known for; rather he looked both engrossed and utterly annoyed.

"I've been waiting for you," Loki announced, folding up the paper neatly and stuffing into his back pocket, before stubbing his cigarette out into the ashtray beside him. "But apparently you were on an early morning errand."

"I just went for a walk," Tony replied tersely, already suspicious and cautious.

"Then you'll go on another walk. With me,"

"Where are we going?"

"Didn't I just tell you? For a walk," Loki gave him an annoyed look, as he stood and picked up his guitar case beside his feet. "Or have you forgotten our agreement already?"

Tony held his tongue; his first compulsion was to point out how avoidant Loki could be when it meant dealing with him on a one-on-one basis. But he knew that someone as temperamental as Loki would probably call off the whole deal, if anyone were to point out his flaws. He seemed like the type of person who didn't take criticism very well.

Rather than rock the boat, he shrugged his shoulders, and was graced with a dramatic eye-roll that probably could have gone down in history as such. Then again, everything about Loki was extraordinary, even the worst parts of him; or so was his observation, which could have easily been influenced by the anger he was still unjustly harboring towards him.

Loki led the way out of the tour bus, while unhooking a pair of sunglasses from his jeans' pocket, and putting them on. In that moment, Tony was reminded of how spot-on the nickname rock god was; even outside on a bright sunny day, Loki exuded something other people did not. Not to mention, it was the first time that he actually saw Loki in daylight, not hidden in the shadows of the tour bus or even in the veil of night.

They walked towards an undetermined point, steps in sync as they passed store fronts and restaurants. People paused in mid-motion; some even halted and openly gawked as they strolled by. Many wore curious looks, some outwardly appalled, while others appeared as if a deity had just graced them with its presence. And Tony knew it was all because of Loki.

Tony didn't expect anyone to recognize him; there had been very few soirees he'd been invited to for Stark Industries, after his parents divorced. Nowadays, despite the mustache-goatee combo, he looked less like a millionaire's son and more like a disheveled, everyday teenager. One that would find company with a tall, lean, rock god who looked that much more stunning underneath the sunlight than Tony thought possible.

Soon Loki drew to a halt outside of a stereotypical diner; he observed it for a split-second, before he pushed in the door, and was already slipping in without any explanation. Annoyed but compliant, Tony followed after him into the busy establishment. And he was far from surprised that people eyed them as they went past; he noted the nasty sneers on several burly truck driver types' faces, as if Loki's mere presence forced them to question their own sexuality; which wasn't that farfetched.

They settled into a booth in the farthest corner, although there was very little privacy to be had. Tony openly glowered at a cluster of teenaged girls, whom were eyeing Loki up and down as he settled his guitar case in the booth beside him and fished out a cigarette from one of his pockets, utterly oblivious to the attention he was getting from everyone around him.

"So, you've had questions," Loki patted his jeans absently, before finding his bic lighter, and lighting the tip of his cigarette. "And apparently I have the answers."

"Yeah, a few," Tony slid out his notepad and pencil, only to pause once Loki held out his hand, palm up, as if to receive something from him.

"Give it to me."

"Give what to you?"

"I'm not stupid, so it would be preferable if you didn't treat me as if I am." Loki glowered at him, still holding out his hand. "Now give it to me."

Tony stared at him, but couldn't see his eyes thanks to those god awful sunglasses which he somehow made look good. He waited for any further information; albeit none was forth coming, and he shook his head, coupled with a shrug of his shoulders to indicate he had no clue what Loki wanted from him.

Except a terribly inappropriate scenario cropped up in his head, despite the context in which the words were spoken. It was highly doubtful Loki would extend his hand with a hardened look on his face, demanding sexual pleasures beyond his wildest dreams. Not to mention, some dirty diner wasn't exactly a romantic setting; although neither was a dirty alleyway, but that hadn't stopped Loki either.

"Give it to me," Loki repeated slowly, as if Tony was unable to comprehend that simple command.

"You have to be more specific than that," he replied, only to have Loki grab a hold of his hand in something akin to death grip.

Tony did very little to shake off his hold, confused more than ever by what the older man might have wanted. He hadn't anything to give and he was just about to say as much, hopefully in a controlled tone instead of the giddy and frightened feminine voice that wanted to erupt from his throat; but he was saved by a looming figure beside the table.

They both turned to gaze at a middle aged woman, who was still trying to keep the beehive hairstyle relevant. She looked at them for several moments, seemingly forgetting her job function; and it was only then that Tony realized they were literally holding hands.

"What can I get for you fellas?" The waitress asked in a way that hardly hid her surprise.

"Iced water with a wedge of lemon," Loki said, before squeezing Tony's hand. "And whatever you would like, love."

"Coffee, black," Tony swallowed thickly. "But how about some scrambled eggs, bacon, sausage, you know, the works."

"Aren't you insatiable?" Loki quirked an eyebrow, before he offered the waitress a smile.

"Well, I have to keep up my energy when you're so insatiable in the bedroom." Tony blurted out and instantly regretted it.

Both Loki and the middle aged woman stared at him, dumbfounded (although Loki and dumbfounded didn't sound appropriate) before the woman hurried away with a terse _right away_. Loki pulled his hand away abruptly and took a long drag on his cigarette, which seemed to make the environment that much more awkward.

The silence lasted for what felt like a small eternity; Loki looked anywhere but at him, smoking his cigarette almost to the butt, before he snubbed it out and started a second. Sometime in the midst of their standstill, the waitress returned with both their beverages, and a heaping pile of food for Tony. But she didn't express the same jovial attitude towards them as the other patrons, probably because of his ill-timed joke.

Tony ate with his eyes planted on his plate, consumed by his food and repeating that dumb joke in his head that would have had James in stitches, if he'd been on the receiving end of it. But it wasn't James on the other side of the table, it was Loki fucking Odinson; and the rock god wasn't amused, clearly.

"I won't answer any of your questions, until you hand over what I know you have." Loki drawled, in between puffs of smoke. "Or anything substantial for your article,"

"For one, I still don't know what you're talking about. Two, what do you consider substantial to my article?"

"Substantial – my feelings about music, professional musicianship, what led me to this vocation comparably to a salary man or a scholar; those sorts of questions,"

"Then let me ask you a non-substantial question like, how old is the great Loki Odinson?" Tony set his fork down; suddenly intrigued by the potential to learn more about Loki; well, if he played along.

Loki whistled lowly, while tapping his fingers against the tabletop. There was something both off-putting and stupidly attractive about how, seemingly, he was dumbing himself down. But someone of his caliber couldn't keep up the charade for very long; neither could Tony for that matter.

"Well, considering my son is about as old as you," Loki shrugged half-heartedly and almost made Tony spit out the coffee he'd begun to sip.

His eyes widened to the size of dinner plates; he spurted only to catch himself as a wicked little grin spread across Loki's lips, a telltale sign that the bastard was lying. Which was quickly reinforced by the fact a genuine, unfiltered laugh escaped him.

An expletive was on the tip of Tony's tongue, but he managed to reel it in. Mostly because of the way Loki threw his head back ever-so-slightly and exposed the column of his neck that was strangely elegant for a man's, and entrancing on top of that too.

Tony stabbed an innocent sausage link, stuffing into his mouth, and waited for Loki to quiet down after riling that kind of reaction out of him. And he swore, almost one-hundred percent certain, that the bastard knew exactly what he was doing. Even though, he almost punched him after that bedroom joke.

"Forty-four," Loki chuckled, which drew Tony's attention again.

"What?"

"I was born in nineteen forty-four. You're intelligent, you can figure out the math."

"Twenty-seven," he blurted out automatically, not even needing the time to think about it.

"Twenty-six, but within the coming months," Loki stubbed out his second cigarette, before reaching for Tony's coffee mug, and peering into it.

Tony observed Loki for a moment, as something macabre surfaced in his brain. It was only the previous fall that Hendrix and Joplin kicked the bucket, which had been a huge blow to the music scene; not to mention they'd been so damn young on top of it. And boy did the media blare out the age twenty-seven like it was some kind of cursed number.

Coupled with that eerie thought and Loki's erratic behavior, Tony felt almost terrified. Despite the whole stupid idea was nothing more than paranoia (since he was, at heart, a scientist), he couldn't help but feel a tightening in his chest, as if once Loki hit his birthday he was a goner. He probably would be too if he continued his predilection for drugs and roofs.

"Any other questions now," Loki said around the lip of Tony's mug, taking a drink, and scrunching up his nose in distaste. "Vile stuff here,"

Tony plucked the mug from his long-fingered hand, consciously taking a drink from the same side Loki's lips had been; but he didn't seem to notice. His previous bout of anxiety dampened to a murmur, and he was again bothered by how affected he was by the guy. He went from mortified and regretful, shocked and annoyed, and terrified and depressed within a five minute period; which was a record for him, although it was probably a record for any sane person.

"Are you married? Have you been married?" He asked, taking another drink from the mug.

"Poor choice, poor choice," Loki shook his head, reaching into his back pocket to extract his wallet, and tossing several bills onto the table. "Come now, I can't stand this abhorrent place anymore."

Slurping the last of his coffee and grabbing the last sausage link off his plate, Tony hurriedly followed Loki as he started towards the front door. Their waitress shot them a disapproving look, which made Tony grin widely until he had to almost run after Loki who'd already slipped out.

But he didn't get very far, before he was pushed against a wall of a fabric shop next door to the diner; Loki held him there by one hand against his sternum, while looking either way as if to ensure no one would intervene. And Tony swore, for a split-second, that he might actually go into cardiac arrest. He hadn't been expecting this and he definitely couldn't have predicted this, whatever this was.

"Now give it to me," Loki said in a hushed, almost erotic voice.

"You keep asking for _it_ but I don't know what _it_ is. I told you that already." Tony breathed out, suppressing a moan as Loki's hand trailed down to rest over the Odin's Sons' logo on his tee-shirt, another that Sif snagged from the vending table.

"Give it to me," Loki repeated, leaning inward, while looking over his sunglasses. "It's in your back pocket. You tried to hide it with the hem of your shirt, but this material is very thin. Although I already knew where you went this morning."

"W-what, how-"

"Call it a hunch, if you may. So you either hand over your bus ticket right now, before I take it by force. And let's not kid ourselves; I am by far stronger than you are."

"For Christ's sake," Tony reached backwards, pulling out his bus ticket, but keeping it out of Loki's reach. "But before that, why the hell are you so gung-ho on getting me to stay? And none of that vague, enigmatic bullshit that you're always going on with."

For a split-second, Loki looked unsure of what to say; which, in turn, sent Tony's heart into overdrive. He suspected that Loki could even feel the sudden change; hell, he was sure some of the pedestrians walking by could actually hear how fast his heart was beating.

"Because," Loki said softly. "They deserve it. Thor, Volstagg, Fandral; they deserve this article. And you will not do them any justice by leaving prematurely."

Something sad and self-deprecating passed over Loki's face, before he was pulling away from him; although he no longer looked like he might rip the bus ticket from Tony's hand. But he really didn't have to anymore; he held it out to him for a good ten seconds, until Loki finally took it.

Once it was in Loki's possession, Tony watched as he set down his guitar case onto the pavement, and slowly began to tear it into tiny pieces. Then without warning, Loki threw the pieces up into the air like it was confetti; but his face hadn't changed a bit, still oddly disconnected and sad as he picked up his guitar case again.

Wordlessly they started back the way they came. People still stared and gaped, except this time Loki seemed to shrink against the attention. He hunched forward, head dropped, almost as if he was attempting to disappear from sight.

Only when they were in sight of the tour bus, did he finally straighten himself up again. Tony was on the verge of mustering up the courage to ask him what he'd meant, but the question was derailed by Super Manager himself striding towards them, looking exasperated and relieved. Of course, Phil had been tightly strung since Seattle; even more so than usual.

"There you are! I went to your bunk and you weren't there, and I got worried!" Phil launched into, no doubt ready to lecture Loki on telling people where he slipped off to now; but Loki stopped him before it could escalate.

He pulled out the paper he'd been reading previously from his back pocket, pressing it into Phil's chest until he accepted it with a quizzical look on his face. Phil eventually unfolded the paper, speed reading the text, before his eyebrows launched up comically.

"Tell them yes," Loki uttered, stepping around Phil, and climbing onto the tour bus before he could even respond.

"Omit this from-"

"The article, I get it," Tony supplied, even though he hadn't a clue what was going on; but something told him it wasn't good.


	14. Chapter Thirteen :: Phoenix II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since I love you guys so much (and because the last chapter was kind of shitty), I decided to post up the newest chapter already. It's a bit shorter than usual, so apologies. But I hope you enjoy it nonetheless. :)

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**Chapter Thirteen :: Phoenix II**

 

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The only way to describe the scene was chaotic. Venomous insults were spewed left and right, before they were followed by angry fists, and even more erratic and violent movements. Blood speckled the asphalt, although whose was a mystery at that point; and no one appeared willing or able to separate the two combatants.

Tony stayed on the fringe of the fray, alongside the many who'd lined up to witness the two men beat one another senseless. Catcalls and words of encouragement expelled from the spectators, which grew louder as a particularly hard hit struck the smaller of the two.

Loki Odinson dressed completely in black, staggered backwards, and was temporarily dazed by the hit to the face. He almost tumbled over, but managed to catch himself before he hit the ground. Which might have been a mistake, since his stability only fueled his elder brother to assault him with ham-sized fists again.

Thor Odinson aimed for Loki's kidneys and struck the spot, hard enough to finally send Loki to the ground with an agonized noise. He crumbled into himself, assuming the fetal position, as Thor kicked at him in the fury of a madman.

Excited and terrified screams combined into one entity, as Loki managed to scramble far enough away to kick at Thor; which delayed him for several moments, giving Loki the leeway to put further distance between them. Enough distance, at least, for someone to force their way through the crowd and launch themselves in between the two brothers.

Super manager Phil Coulson yelled something indiscernible over the mob mentality; before shoving at Thor's chest with a surprising force. Tony gaped at the scene, torn between remaining a neutral party or stepping in to check up on Loki, who had repositioned himself onto his hands and knees, and was heaving as if he'd run a marathon.

Despite his higher faculties advising him to remain in place, the emotionally mangled part of him forced Tony to broach the distance between him and Loki. Even as Loki was crawling aimlessly away, Tony followed him before dropping onto his own knees beside him, while his hands hovered above him, unsure if he should attempt to touch him or not.

"Loki," Tony said his name breathlessly, as if he was the one who'd taken the hit to the kidneys instead.

The older man spat out spittle laced with blood, before a pained moan escaped him. That, however, did not stop Loki from rising onto his knees, to reveal the extent of what his brother's fists had done to him. And it was not pretty sight either; his bottom lip was split in half and was dribbling blood down his chin and down the column of his throat. But what was even more striking was the ugly swelling underneath Loki's left eye, which, more than likely, would blacken soon.

"Loki, let me help you." Tony reached for him, grazing his fingers along his shoulder, only for Loki to jerk back.

"No, don't. Don't touch me." He heaved, somehow finding the strength to stagger onto his feet again.

The gaggle of individuals, who remained, continued to chant and hoot, clearly still wanting to see a fight. And no one could accuse Loki of not being a crowd pleaser either; because without so much as a warning he charged forward, maneuvering beautifully past Phil, and connecting his fist as hard as he could into Thor's jaw.

The blow was strong enough to send Thor reeling, but not strong enough to stop him from attacking Loki again. This time around, the brutality level increased a tenfold; Tony could hear the blows connecting and cringed as Thor managed to drive Loki back into the brick wall of the theater.

Phil was yelling still, before vainly attempting to subdue Thor; although the punches had ceased and were replaced by mangled words and audible curses that would have made any civil person blush. His hands were now clutching the front of Loki's shirt, which was dictating the way he was jostled on and off the wall.

"You ungrateful bastard," Thor roared, projecting all his rage into his words. "How dare you, speak to me like that! I was the one who took you away from that shoddy pub you worked at! I gave you the opportunity of a lifetime!"

" _You_ gave me the opportunity of a lifetime?!" Loki hissed, somehow more intimidating than Thor; but it might have been leant to the fact, the look on his face was dark and menacing. "Might I remind you that _I_ was the one who'd gotten your band the recognition that it severely lacked beforehand! _I_ was the one who was approached by Hamish, and _I_ was the one approached by Phil soon thereafter!"

"Without the band, you'd be nothing! You'd be as pathetic as you ever were!" Thor boomed, shaking Loki madly.

"I am the band!" Loki erupted, which ceased his brother's movements.

The shock that pooled across Thor's face was a sight to behold. It was obvious that Loki spoke one of his greatest fears; a truth that had been known but only unearthed at that moment. And the revelation was sharp enough to cut right through him.

"You are nothing," Thor uttered, although his words lost their conviction. "All you have are your words and nothing more, Loki. You are pathetic to believe that you can last one moment on stage, but mostly in life, without me."

"It is my words, my voice that has gotten you this far, _brother_. And do not believe for one moment that I cannot survive without you; after all, it's _you_ that cannot survive without _me."_ Loki spat out venomously. "But if you are so confident then be my guest."

Before Thor could speak another word, maybe even throw a punch for good measures, Loki shoved him away with a stunning display of power. He slid sideways against the wall without Thor's support and staggered across the lot and past Phil.

Tony scrambled back onto his feet, willing any words, even if they were half-assed, to come out of his mouth. But one of the few times that he needed to say something, anything, his mouth failed him. Not even a stupid and offensive joke came out of him. In fact, the only thing he could do was watch Loki move away.

Phil, however, wasn't paralyzed by emotion; albeit he was far from calm. His usual cool façade was replaced by evident concern, no doubt anger too. He strode to Loki's side, who, in turn, only spared him an annoyed glare and tilted his head in Thor's direction, who was silently stewing.

"Your job is the tour manager for Odin's Sons," Loki jerked his arm away, since Phil tried to reach out for it. "And I am _not_ part of this band any longer! Unless you can get Hamish to convince me otherwise, and rest assured he will not fly all the way from London for that!"

"Loki, please let's be reasonable right now. You're upset and you're injured; so let's take care of you first then we can discuss whatever it is you'd like." Phil held up both hands in surrender. "But right now making any rash decisions is highly unadvisable."

"I want Hamish!" Loki screamed, so loud that every vein in his neck stuck out. "And you will not see me until I speak to Hamish! Do you understand me?!"

Loki didn't wait for a response; despite his multiple and painful injuries, he still strode away and Tony knew exactly where he was going. It would have been for the better, instinctively he knew, to leave Loki alone and not follow him. But when did Tony ever listen to his better judgment, especially when it came to Loki?

Rushing past Thor and Phil alike, Tony followed after Loki who laboriously pulled himself up into the tour bus that had been all but abandoned, as far as he could see, once the fight had broken out. Tony wasn't really sure how everything had gotten to the point of complete and utter chaos either.

He'd been casually walking through the drove of fans, gauging their reactions, before he rounded the corner to find the melee in full swing. He hadn't bothered to ask anyone around what led the brothers into such a violent exchange; although from argument that just had taken place, it seemed as if Loki opened his shit-talking mouth and ended up with a fist to the face.

Cautiously, Tony climbed onto the bus and heard a heated argument somewhere in the back. He paused by the kitchenette and tried to discern who Loki was now fighting with. The words were indiscernible but he easily picked out Volstagg's voice and its deeper baritone.

The argument didn't get any louder; rather both Loki and Volstagg's voices eventually grew quieter. Tony strained his ears but was unable to hear anything at all, except for some rustling about and the eventual reappearance of Loki, followed shortly by the oversized drummer.

Loki was carrying a hardcover suitcase in one hand and his guitar case in the other; he looked worse than he had while in the midst of the fight. The skin underneath his eye was swelling more and had taken on a purplish hue. Dried blood still painted his face, but he obviously didn't care about how disheveled he looked.

"Where the hell are you going?" Tony demanded.

"That doesn't concern you at all." Loki returned snidely and by god, if he hadn't already been beaten to a pulp, Tony would have gladly done it for him.

"Oh, it concerns me all right. It concerns me big time. You know, after you made party confetti out of my bus ticket this morning. Or have you forgotten about that?"

"I have a very long memory," Loki quirked his eyebrows.

"Well, you should regret tearing up my ticket right about now. Considering you gave me perfect ammunition to write a completely unflattering characterization of you. You know the megalomaniac lead singer of Odin's Sons, who thinks he's so damn talented that he doesn't need a band at all. The same one, who does drugs and almost falls off roofs, gets blowjobs from whores in dirty alleyways, and acts holier than thou on top of it all!" Tony pontificated, growing angrier and angrier as the words escaped him.

Volstagg stared in between them, seemingly unsure of what to say by this new flood of information. That was a lot to take in, of course; and Tony was beginning to suspect that Loki's band mates knew very little about him to begin with.

They stood, all three of them, staring at one another until Loki set his suitcase onto the table and his guitar case beside his feet. Never breaking eye contact from Tony, he reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet. He flipped it open with a flick of his wrist and pulled out an undetermined amount of bills from inside of it.

"Write it then. Write every word of it." Loki said, before throwing the money in Tony's face, and making him gape in something akin to both admiration and disgust for his gall.

"Loki, think about what you're saying!" Volstagg interrupted, almost looking scandalized. "The whole civilized world doesn't need to know about that!"

Loki didn't readily respond; instead he returned his wallet to his back pocket, and picked up both pieces of his luggage again. A derisive expression crossed over his features, as he stepped past the fallen pieces of currency and past Tony himself.

"Didn't I warn you, Volstagg? Didn't I tell you it was a bloody stupid mistake to bring an amateur reporter on tour with us?" Loki called over his shoulder. "But nobody listened, most of all me. Now we've reaped what we've sown."

Those words echoed in Tony's head; they were mocking, mean-spirited, and undoubtedly exposed everything that Loki truly was. He wasn't some rock deity, who somehow spoke to people on the same level; instead he spoke down to people. His words, his lyrics were clearly from a man that found himself to be better than everyone else. Why else would he avoid everyone like the plague?

Tony crumbled into the booth beside the table, struck by disappointment so great that he couldn't even breathe. One minute, he swore he'd only been a fan of the bastard; he was struck by his stage presence, that voice which seemed to be a gift from heaven itself. And the next minute, he was staring too long, having sexual fantasies about the guy that made him harder than Raquel Welch could ever make him (which was saying something).

But now Tony had seen the light. Loki Odinson was nothing more than an amazing voice, which had been gifted to someone who was selfish, contrary, and an all-around asshole. He was nothing special; although that really didn't stop Tony from feeling like his heart was ripped out of his chest and stuffed into his mouth. But he'd be damned if he let himself cry over it, since no one was worth that; not even Loki Odinson.


	15. Chapter Fourteen :: Austin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I volley-balled back and forth if I wanted to mention a particularly tidbit (bluntly) in the story; but I figured it was imperative to Loki's character. And well, this knowledge will inevitably change the way that Tony reacts to Loki on top of it. So I added it and I'm sorry.

* * *

 

 

**Chapter Fourteen :: Austin**

 

 

* * *

 

Tony felt both ridiculous and miserable; two emotions that he hadn't thought could coincide on such a grandiose level. But he was proven wrong; especially on the ridiculous front, since he was sitting across from Sif wearing a cowboy almost identical to hers while smack-dab in Austin, Texas.

They were in the middle of a late lunch, after spending the entire day away from the tour bus. Ever since the melee between the two Odinson brothers, things had been terse and utterly uncomfortable; and the only reason Tony had stayed was because he hadn't had the nerve to contact Obie and ask for money to get back home. Not yet anyway.

So he endured the awkward silences, Thor's sudden outbursts of anger, and even Phil's jittery behavior that might very well lead him to an early grave; which was only aggravated by the fact that no one had heard from Loki for close to four days. No one had expected it either; not after that dramatic exit.

Tony was still reeling from the encounter; especially since he was struck by the cold hard reality that Loki wasn't the person he built him up to be. Of course, he knew that he'd created an entity that suited his fancy best; and it wasn't exactly Loki's fault that he couldn't live up to that image. But it was still disappointing nonetheless.

"You've been pretty traumatized, huh?" Sif asked, in between taking several slurps from her root beer float. "Trust me, I understand though. Loki can be a cruel son of a bitch when he wants to be."

"I guess I just hadn't expected that." Tony furrowed his brow, absentmindedly prodding the food on his plate. "Or maybe I just hadn't expected that he was like _that_."

"What did you expect from him exactly; that he'd be flawless?" She gazed at him, well-meaning but Tony couldn't help but feel a twinge of annoyance at her perception.

It was hard to say what he'd expected before meeting Loki. He never had a solid idea when it came to him, but he never imagined him to be an entitled, full-tilt diva like he turned out to be. Then again, he also hadn't expected to be attracted to him either; no less be miserable that he was no longer in close proximity anymore.

"I really don't know what I expected, okay." He paused. "I just hadn't prepared myself for what he is, you know."

"Loki isn't a bad person."

"Maybe not, but he isn't prince charming either. He obviously has a pretty high opinion of himself."

"That's not true." Sif sighed, leaving her root beer float halfway finished, and pushed away from the table a bit. "He actually has a poor opinion of himself. He's just very good at hiding it; it's easy with how charismatic he is."

A conflicted expression crossed her face, before she toyed with the rim of her cowboy hat, and stared at the busy street that they were sitting beside. Their table was situated just outside the restaurant's door, alongside two other tables; both of which were occupied by several college aged students.

Tony watched Sif and could almost see the gears in her head turn. She looked like she wanted to say something, but that something was holding her back. Several moments passed with her perpetual fidgeting, to the point where Tony thought he might snap at her; but she leaned inward and caught his gaze with an intensity that hadn't been there beforehand.

"What I tell you here cannot leave this table, do you understand me?" She furrowed her brow. "Meaning this will _not_ end up in your article, casual conversation, anywhere. I need you to promise me that, Tony."

Tony parted his lips, but chose instead to nod in agreement. He figured if he asked any questions that she might change her mind; and clearly it was important enough for her to demand his silence. Not to mention his curiosity had been piqued too; and once his curiosity piqued, well all bets were off.

"Loki isn't really Thor's brother; biologically anyway." Sif dropped her eyes, tracing a finger along the glass in front of her. "He was adopted when he was four."

"I don't see why that would affect him, well not that much anyway." Tony readjusted himself in his chair. "Tons of people are adopted, but I'm sure they don't act high and mighty like that."

"There's more to it than that. I only know about it myself because of Thor; and he'd only let it slip when he was really drunk. So drunk that I doubt he even remembers saying anything in the first place."

"Okay, so what is the whole story then?"

"Loki came from a very poor family; apparently both his parents were drunkards on top of that." She sniffed, looking anywhere but him. "They supposedly neglected Loki, although he wasn't taken away from them because of that."

Tony noticed another wave of confliction cross over her features, before she covered her face with both hands. Something akin to dread started to form in his chest; even though he was still upset with Loki, his concern for him had yet to diminish in its entirety.

"Something happened, something bad." Sif dropped her hands, but wouldn't look at him still. "Maybe his parents were too drunk to keep an eye on him, or maybe they just didn't care; either way, someone hurt Loki. So badly that he was in the hospital for almost three months."

"Someone hurt him?" Tony repeated.

"Some bloke had his way with him; violently." She said. "Thor's mother was a trauma nurse at the hospital and took care of Loki; so when she found out about his adoption, after caring him for all that time, she convinced Thor's father to take him in."

Bile rose in Tony's throat, overwhelmed by a slew of emotions that he hadn't any proper names for. Somehow he managed not to outwardly react; although he felt like he might very well come unglued. He was angry and he didn't know why, since he wasn't very angry about his own situation, let alone one that happened a good twenty years beforehand.

He reached for his abandoned glass of cola, taking a hardy drink from it. He hoped that it would drown down any unnecessary feelings he might have; or in the very least banish the knowledge he'd been gifted with (or he'd been cursed with).

"Thor said that his parents believe Loki doesn't remember what happened. But he's of a different opinion altogether; he said one time that they were rough housing while they were younger, and Thor pinned Loki down on his stomach, and he went into full-blown hysterics. Almost broke Thor's nose with how wildly he'd been struggling." Sif continued after a moment of contemplation. "So now I think he overcompensates; he's aloof and charismatic to hide who he really is. And we might be on the same boat, daddy-o. I don't think either of us knows who Loki really is at all."

"Why are you telling me all of this?"

"Simple; I see how you look at him. No one, his admirers included, ever looked at him like that." She suddenly smiled. "But you look at him like he's the moon and the stars; even now, when I mentioned his name just now, your face lit up like a Christmas tree."

Something akin to embarrassment overtook Tony; but they, thankfully, didn't discuss anything else further. There was already too much to think about; it seemed like every time he drew to a conclusion on how he felt about Loki, or who he was for that matter, something else was revealed and changed his opinion again.

At that moment, he really couldn't say what he felt towards Loki. But he knew that his previous opinion was no longer withstanding; in fact, he was back to square one when it came to Loki. Nothing made sense; everything about him was still a mystery, despite now knowing one of the worst parts of his life. And he'd be damned if he ever let that out; or if he ever uttered a word to the man himself about it.

Eventually they finished their meal, before they started back to the venue for the evening. There had been several conversations about cancelling every Texas date, until they could convince Loki to return. But Thor had insisted otherwise and intended to sing the entire set; since he was originally the lead singer anyway.

Tony had reservations about the matter, strictly from a fan's point of view. He wasn't sure people would be that receptive to Thor on lead vocals, particularly when they had only heard Loki in the position. And while it was entertaining to hear Thor sing a song or two, it couldn't make up for Loki's absence.

An onslaught of thoughts carried him through the twenty minute walk. Sif too had gone quiet, probably reflecting on what she just told Tony, and second guessing herself about doing so. But it was a companionable silence that Tony really couldn't find otherwise; not with a bus full of angry Englishmen and their American manager who was about to rip out his own hair at any given moment.

Once they turned onto the street parallel to the theater, a lavish luxury car rolled to halt besides the building. They drew closer, both intrigued by what could only be a Rolls Royce and the occupant who slid out of the backseat.

A smartly dressed gentleman, well over six feet tall, stepped out of the Rolls Royce and was followed on the other side by none other than Loki. The gentleman rounded the vehicle to sidle up beside Loki, and slid an arm around his shoulder, leaning into him, speaking conspiratorially; which only led Loki to wrap his arm around his waist and say something back in return.

"Holy shit," Sif halted, gaping at the duo who was still conversing closely.

"I didn't think he'd come back either." Tony provided, feeling something akin to relief flood through him; although Loki still looked awful after his run-in with his brother.

"No, that's _Heimdall_ ; all-seeing Heimdall!" She grabbed onto his forearm, rooting him to the spot.

"Who the hell is Heimdall?"

"That's the nickname Thor gave him; his real name is Hamish. He's technically the band's real manager; although Philly takes care of them most the time, especially if they're stateside." She explained. "And no one in the band, aside from Loki, gets along with Heimdall."

Despite looking a shade paler than she naturally was, Sif still crossed the street and dragged him along. They climbed onto a patch of sideway ahead of Heimdall and Loki, whom slowly lifted their heads to look at them. And it was terrifying to be on the end of both those glowers; they looked like cats of prey about to pounce.

Well-calculatedly Heimdall smiled at them, even though it didn't meet his eyes; and quite frankly it made him look meaner than he had been while staring them down. He pulled Loki along until they stood an arm's length away, before he offered his free hand to Sif who took it without any hesitation.

"Amelia, it is a pleasure to see you again. I hope you are doing well." Heimdall said in an authoritative voice.

"Yes, very much so, sir; I hope you're doing well too." Sif responded in a proper tone that Tony hadn't ever heard her use; although it wasn't that different from when he schmoozed with people at his father's business soirees, well whenever he was invited.

Before he knew it, Tony was offered Heimdall's hand, and just like Sif he took it without putting up a fight. Not when he was being stared at so critically; and boy did he know he was the enemy under that set of eyes.

"And you must be the Rolling Stone reporter I heard so much about. Tony Stark, right?"

"Yes, sir," he mimicked Sif.

"Well, I hope to read something thoroughly entertaining and insightful. But it would be an absolute shame if it were fodder for gossip rather than a well-written piece of journalism." Heimdall smiled wider. "Because I would hate, very much so, keeping Mr. Odinson away from you; particularly if you do choose to write about his personal affairs like you've threatened to do. And trust me; it will cripple your article."

There was thinly veiled threat behind those words; albeit Tony, or even Loki for that matter, hadn't an opportunity to respond. Heimdall dropped Tony's hand and walked towards the tour bus; he led Loki inside and within a thirty second span, Phil and Gary were exiting the bus with mixed emotions on their faces.

Phil looked uncharacteristically pale, muttering things behind the fist pressed against his lips; while Gary responded with abrupt and noncommittal jerks of the head to whatever he said. Tony and Sif watched them go back and forth for at least ten minutes, before the thunderous roar of someone inside the bus, snapped them back to attention.

Suddenly a cacophony of voices, angry and mangled, erupted from the bus; but they soon died down into nothingness, only kept in-check by a stern and unflappable voice that could only be Heimdall's. The words, however, were indiscernible but the tone was still enough to make all four of them stare at the tour bus, almost as if they expected it to explode from the tension inside.

Tony couldn't say how long the pow-wow inside the bus lasted; aside from the fact, it was long enough for Sif to pull him to sit cross-legged against the theater, and it was long enough to make his ass hurt and shift so many times that he decided to crouch instead.

Phil looked paler than ever and almost jumped out of his skin, once everyone filed out of the bus. Thor stepped down first, followed by Volstagg and Fandral; and just as they had mounted the bus, Heimdall and Loki emerged with their arms around one another.

Without saying a word, the band stomped towards the back door of the theater, and walked in behind several ready-to-please roadies. Once they were gone and Gary returned to his post; Heimdall turned to Phil and broached the distance between them.

"This is your job, Phillip. I expect them to get through this tour stateside and the one at home in early autumn." Heimdall said sternly, while squeezing Loki's shoulder and turning to him. "You have twenty-two shows to get through; and because you said _yes_ , you can bet I'll live up to my part of the bargain. So keep a level head and do not make yourself vulnerable to the people around you; especially that reporter, do you understand me?"

"Crystal clear," Loki returned.

"Twenty-two more shows," Heimdall repeated, before slapping Loki good-naturedly on the back, and beckoning Phil to follow him back, no doubt, to the Rolls Royce.

Loki remained rooted to the spot for several moments, as if he were in deep contemplation about something. He only leapt back into action, when Phil rounded the bus carrying the luggage that Loki had left with only four days before.

Phil was rambling as he boarded the bus, and was followed by Loki although in a manner that spoke to how much pain he still was in from his face off with Thor. But it was only when they were securely in the bus that Sif turned to him with wide, inquisitive eyes; and Tony knew they were on the same wavelength.

"What did Heimdall mean by that?" She asked. "About twenty-two shows?"

"I don't know," Tony lied, but he already drew to conclusion that made his stomach flop.


	16. Chapter Fifteen :: Austin II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a tad shorter than some of the other chapters; but I thought it still had a place in the story nonetheless. So I hope you enjoy it and thank you for the constant support; I truly appreciate all the kind words. :)

* * *

 

**Chapter Fifteen :: Austin II**

 

* * *

 

Maybe it hadn't been Tony's best idea to date; hell, it could have been called one of his stupider ones even. But it all boiled down to one thing and one thing only – relaxation. He'd been tightly wound for days and he just wanted a reprieve from the drama-addled environment he'd gotten himself caught up with.

So when he'd gotten the opportunity to buy a single joint from one of the many concert-goers, and decided after the terse atmosphere that overtook the tour bus, he'd smoke it and try to write a rough draft of his article. He just hadn't expected that he would find Loki at four in the morning, sitting at the breakfast nook with a cup of tea and his guitar in hands. Nor was he fast enough to slip away before being seen.

No one could accuse Tony of being graceful while stoned; and they most certainly couldn't accuse him of being smart either. Since he continued towards the table and plopped himself across from the older man, who only regarded him with a raised eyebrow.

They stared at one another for an undetermined amount of time; although Tony really hadn't a grasp on time in his compromised state. Not to mention, he assumed he was giving Loki a disconcerting look, because he was the first to look away which was probably a first for him.

"Your performance tonight – out of sight." Tony grinned, while he flipped his notepad open. "You killed it; blew the crowd away."

Loki didn't respond, instead he strummed his guitar until he started to play something that Tony hadn't heard before. Somewhere in his hazy mind, he determined that he actually interrupted Loki in the middle of writing a song.

The melody morphed several times, as Loki tweaked it and expanded upon it; and during that period of time he begun to hum and sing several lyrics on a whim. Then without any warning, Loki was suddenly singing a full-blown song; one that instantly entranced Tony until he abruptly quit with a sour and disagreeable look on his face.

"That was-"

"Interview me now, if you ever intend on doing so. Otherwise, I cannot guarantee you'll get another opportunity." Loki cut him off, before reaching for his teacup. "I shouldn't even be talking to you in the first place."

"Then why are you?" Tony asked, feeling a weird sort of anticipation deep in his chest. "I thought that Heimdall guy told you to stay away from me."

"Oh, he did. But I do what I please." Loki gave him a mischievous smirk around the rim of his teacup, which sent a spark of electricity straight to Tony's groin.

It took a fair amount of willpower to withhold the moan that threatened to erupt from him. Which made the whole idea of getting stoned anywhere near Loki, one of his stupider decisions to date; since he really hadn't that much control over himself. And he needed the extra control while faced with Loki; regardless of his black eye and split lip.

"I'm not even going to beat around the bush, I am totally stoned. So this interview is going to blow." Tony laughed in spite of himself.

"It wouldn't be satisfactory even if you weren't."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence." He attempted to scowl, but it was overridden by another grin. "Okay, well lucky for you I was going to do some writing. And I have my handy-dandy tape recorder with me too."

"How joyous," Loki returned, keeping an eye on him as he extracted the tape recorder from his shoulder bag, and managed to put in a new tape for the occasion.

Once he had prepped everything, Tony tried to focus on the pressing questions he had in mind for Loki. Of course, strictly on a platonic level; unlike the many bodily pangs that were rapidly running through him, and wanting him to ask if it would be okay if he fucked him. Since he had to figure that was the sort of question that wouldn't go over very well.

"All right, first question," he announced, pressing the record button. "How did you end up in Odin's Sons in the first place?"

"Simple; by accident," Loki answered.

"Want to elaborate on that?"

"As it's well documented, Thor was the lead singer of the band. He formed it sometime in '66, if memory serves me correct." Loki shrugged noncommittally. "I never had any musical aspirations; I took guitar lessons because Mother and Father deemed it a good way to bond with Thor. But I never thought much of it; barely practiced when I got older."

Loki paused to take a sip from his teacup, although he seemed to be in deep thought. Maybe he was in the midst of an internal debate on how much he could tell Tony, without compromising his anonymity; or maybe he was thinking about the unpleasantness in his past. Either way, it took some time before he spoke again.

"In '69 I worked at a pub; barely scraping by at that point. Unexpectedly, Thor asked if I would accompany his band, since his guitarist at the time had gotten ill and they had a gig that evening. And well, that's how it begun."

"But you were only playing guitar at the time," Tony stated, which seemed to annoy Loki.

"Yes, well I stupidly chose to sing along to one of the songs; and somehow I ended up singing the whole bloody thing by myself." He strummed his guitar. "Everyone had gone quiet; I figured my god awful voice was to blame, and well I hadn't expected the opposite reaction to it."

For a split-second, Tony was struck by Sif's words from earlier in the day. That Loki over-compensated due to his poor opinion of himself; and he might have very well believed that his voice was god awful. And maybe even that everyone was just kissing ass for the sake of it.

Tony had felt similarly before. Everyone had always told him how smart he was, how gifted he was; and in some ways he began to believe their hype, even when he frequently felt unwanted and a burden on everyone around him; especially his mother.

"So everyone was actually stunned by how good you were. And that's why you were asked to join the band; because you were clearly an asset. You made Odin's Sons better than they would have been without you." Tony said, capturing Loki's gaze which was oddly weary.

"Not immediately; I refused several times. But eventually Thor wore me down."

"What changed your mind?"

"It was a hobby; a time consuming one, but otherwise harmless. It was only a few months after I joined, that I realized it was more than that. Playing shoddy halls outside of Essex; London in particularly, and that's when we were approached by Hamish, and eventually Phil."

"So with you as the singer it took only a few months to get signed. Whereas, Thor couldn't get a deal for three whole years without you,"

"If you want to say it that way, yes," Loki muttered.

"But you must be happy with the outcome. Not many people can actually be a singer, let alone a rock god." Tony motioned in the air, as if to get his point across.

Loki suddenly laughed in the most self-deprecating way that Tony had ever heard before. Probably in the daylight hours, he would have taken the compliment, and would smirk in that overly confident way of his. But now he was an open book; he was actually opening up to Tony without any exceptionally hard prodding either.

"Rock god? I'm hardly a god." Loki raked his fingers through his hair, tousling it. "The band, no less, is barely hanging on by a thread. And you are here, straight from Rolling Stone magazine, interviewing us as if we matter in the midst of the Plants and Pages and Lennons and McCartneys out there."

"You matter. God, do you matter." Tony returned desperately. "I guarantee within the next five years, the Odinson name is going to be right up there with the Plants and Pages and every fucking Beatle in the world."

"Don't kid yourself. We'll be back in Essex by that time." Loki scowled.

"Tell me then, what the hell do you want to be besides a musician? Because this seems like the best fucking job on the planet to me,"

"Happy." Loki said quickly and matter-of-factly.

It wasn't the answer Tony had been expecting. Hell, he didn't know what he was expecting, but that hadn't even matched up with anything he could imagine. He probably wouldn't have even bat an eye if Loki had said he wanted to be a firefighter, a policeman, a fucking guard for Buckingham Palace. But happy hadn't been his go-to answer.

Loki dropped his head, still raking his fingers through his hair; before he let out another laugh that was by far more self-deprecating than even the first one. It was almost as if he was chiding himself from being that honest, especially when Heimdall told him to watch himself.

"But sometimes," Loki continued. "Sometimes the thing you loathe so completely, in reality, is the only thing you can truly love. Sometimes it's the only thing you've got."

Before Tony could articulate anything, maybe even say something that might very well aggravate the situation further; Loki started to hum and like before, several disjointed lyrics came from his mouth in a beautiful, albeit chaotic, manner. And then it erupted into a full-length song; a completely different one than the previous one he had sung.

That familiar stir of warmth accumulated in Tony's stomach; and without his consent, he felt uncontrollably aroused. The kind of aroused that had the way of making him incredibly irrational; the kind where he might actually jump across the table and jam his tongue down Loki's throat mid-song.

But as quickly as the song begun, it slowly dissipated back into hums, and then into the rattle of the tour bus. Loki reached for his teacup again, drinking the rest of his tea, and slowly began to stand; even though the interview was, technically, still going on.

"I'll answer any other questions you have soon. We both aren't at our best; don't you agree?"

"It's pretty late, yeah." Tony managed to say; regrettably it was in a husky tone of voice, which was hard to deny.

"Some other time then, Tony Stark," Loki inclined his head, before taking his leave with his guitar in hand.

Tony swallowed hard, counting back from twenty before he even attempted to get up. His arousal hadn't gone down any; but at least, he wouldn't have to present it to Loki, and hope that he would accept it. Because he already figured that he wouldn't; since he did have his choice of anyone he wanted. And it seemed like Odin's Sons' management was already revving for a chance in his pants too.

Stuffing his belongings back into his shoulder bag, he made the painful trek back to his bunk; and he hadn't felt as grateful as he did, when it came to the fact he'd chosen a bunk that was farther away from the rest of the band's. After all, he might not be able to suppress the awful sounds he was about to make.


	17. Chapter Sixteen :: Dallas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm pretty bowled over (still) by how well-received this has been; and I hope I don't disappoint with this chapter! Within the next few chapters, I hope to extend the lighthearted mood so we'll see how that turns out!
> 
> And the song mentioned in this chapter was "American Woman" by The Guess Who.

* * *

 

 

**Chapter Sixteen :: Dallas**

 

 

* * *

 

Like any good wet dream, Tony's mind had conjured up a slew of images that catered to his needs. Regardless of the absurdity, the impossibility in physiology and anatomy, his mind went wild. One of the strongest pictures had been Loki spread out across the cheap linens, prevalent in shoddy roadside motels; his long and lean body had been utterly bare, and he looked completely debauched.

His eyes had been hooded with lust, while his mouth was opened with hurried breaths and painted with what only could have been semen; no doubt after Tony used his mouth for nefarious means. And no sooner did his mind create such an image, did it switch to Loki wearing that ridiculous black cowboy hat of his, while riding him fast and hard, and making noises that should have been deemed illegal.

So it really was no surprise that Tony had experienced what it really meant to be sexually frustrated. As a teenaged boy, he was already teetering on the edge; but this was getting absolutely ridiculous. And he felt it full-force when he ambled towards the back of the tour bus, only to find a soaking wet Loki, in only a towel, sliding out of the shower stall/closet.

Luckily he hadn't been stoned, because Tony was almost positive that he would have done something that he would have very well regretted. Not to mention, he figured Loki would have beaten the shit out of him for ripping off his towel, and demanding that they get to know one another physically.

Then again, he probably didn't make a very good impression by almost bowling over Loki, in order to get into the compact lavatory either. He was just glad that Loki had the good grace not to mention it, once they crossed one another's paths and front of the entire band no less.

But things were still terse between the band members; Thor and Loki wouldn't speak to one another without prompting from Phil, who still looked like he might tear at his hair from the stress of it all. It was, however, a step in the right direction that they hadn't gotten into a physical altercation again; and they seemed to be able to work with one another, without too many difficulties.

At least, it appeared so from the Austin gig. No one would have been the wiser of their ongoing conflict, unless they had witnessed the fight in Phoenix. And even now, during the sound check which Tony had gotten an invitation to; they seemed to work like a well oiled machine.

Tony sat crossed leg in the corner of the venue, jotting down details he deemed to be important, as Loki swung the microphone by its wire lazily as Thor's guitar solo echoed off the walls. Volstagg's drumming began to get progressively louder, whereas Fandral's bass dissipated underneath the chaos of it all; which seemed to be a problem.

"Stop, stop!" Fandral ceased playing, lifting his arms, and crossing them at the wrists. "Thor is way too loud; I'm being drowned out!"

The music slowly stopped, although Loki continued twirling the microphone with his hip jutted out in an over sexualized way. Or in the very least, Tony found him to be the epitome of it; and somehow that black eye just made him look rugged and even vulnerable, or simply put _fuckable._

"The sound is just fine." Thor scowled at Fandral. "Besides no one cares about the bass line unless it's a solo; which you do not have in this song, if I might remind you."

"I absolutely forgot, but thank you for reminding me! I'd be so lost without you!" Fandral spat out, before leaning down to fiddle with his amp. "He's still too loud; I don't care what he says."

"I am not!" Thor yelled in a way that could have caused an unsuspecting person to experience heart palpitations. "I know how loud I am supposed to be!"

" _American woman, stay away from me. American woman, mama let me be."_ Loki suddenly belted out so unexpectedly that it ceased the argument between Thor and Fandral almost immediately.

The reason behind his impromptu singing was soon revealed; Sif had pushed through the back door and paused in the middle of crossing the room, raising an eyebrow at Loki who continued to sing at her. Tony watched them, unable to control the jealousy he was struck by; especially when Loki winked at her in such a charming way that it had Sif cracking into a thousand watt grin.

Tony's jealousy only hit a record high, as Sif started to dance in a way a flower child only could, and mouthed the lyrics Loki was singing just for her. But Tony wasn't the only one giving them the evil eye; Thor looked very close to busting a gasket, which was only fueled by the fact neither Loki or Sif noticed him at all. They were focused entirely on one another and no one else.

However, the moment was short lived. Thor made his presence known by jabbing Loki hard in the ribs, which cut off his singing in mid-lyric. Loki glowered at his brother and looked like he might very well launch himself at him.

"Stop messing around already. We have a sound check to finish." Thor rumbled dangerously, before shooting Sif a pointed look which translated clearly to _cut it out now_.

Sif graced Thor with an annoyed look, but nothing more; instead she walked towards Tony and plopped down beside him. He tried to keep his emotions in check, offering her a pinched smile, before lowering his eyes to his chicken scratch, and adding more onto the page.

Only when the music started again, did he lift his head and watch Loki as he continued to twirl the microphone. This time around, he was doing so recklessly, as if he was aiming for Thor who wasn't that far away. And Tony really wouldn't have been surprised if that was his goal; not with how bad their relationship currently was.

"Are you okay, daddy-o?" Sif poked his cheek abruptly, which made him turn around to stare at her. "You look like you've gotten off a bad trip."

Tony bit the inside of his cheek, if only to keep his jealousy to himself. Of course, he hadn't forgotten stumbling across that peculiar scene between Loki and Sif, when he first became acquainted with them. But all signs had pointed to the fact that Thor and Sif was an item; except neither of them openly admitted to it for some reason.

"Just feeling the strain of being on the road, I guess." He lied, while flipping his notepad closed.

"Being so close to Loki, maybe," Sif supplied with a knowing half-smile.

"You two seem to be pretty close, you know from an outsider's perspective." He returned with a sharp edge to his tone; which he suspected would enrage her like it was supposed to.

But he underestimated her; Sif really wasn't normal and only rolled her eyes before breaking into a full-blown smile, the same one that had first caught his attention. He looked away suddenly feeling childish, not to mention foolish; after all, he was acting like a scorned lover over Loki singing a song to another person. And the fact of the matter was he hadn't any right to be angry.

Loki was his own person, who generally viewed Tony as a nuisance; and to be honest, Loki's personal preference was still up in the air. He was touchy-feely with a lot of people; had gotten sexual gratification from the likes of super groupie Natasha, seemed to be somewhat enamored with Sif. And then he was off allowing Phil or Heimdall to manhandle him.

"Oh please." Sif elbowed him. "The only reason you're worried about that is because you have feelings for Loki. Big, gushy, sloppy, lovey-dovey feelings for him,"

"Shut up, will you." Tony sneered. "I don't have any feelings for the guy. My admiration for him has all but diminished at this point too, by the way."

"I don't think that's the case at all. I told you a few days ago that you look at him like he's the only important person on the planet. He's your everything, especially when no one else is looking; and that scares you, but you can't help but feel it anyway."

"Would you shut up if I told you my birthday's in two days? Because that's all I want for my birthday is for you to shut up. I mean it; that's it." He blurted out, only to regret it soon thereafter.

His birthdays weren't very important in the scheme of things. He hadn't a proper birthday party since he was eight; and even then it hadn't been a joyous occasion. His father had allegedly been caught in a compromising position with his then nanny, which spiraled into a lot of screaming and fighting. So he really hadn't expected to do anything this year, no less tell anyone about it either.

After all, he had lied about his age to anyone who'd listen. So celebrating his supposed twenty-second birthday seemed even more disingenuous than telling a simple white lie. And that's precisely why he regretted saying anything, because Sif looked like she might very well want to plan something; and he did not do birthday parties.

"We should do something!" She exclaimed, all but ignoring the music that was currently in full swing on the stage.

Tony peered in that direction and somehow caught Loki's eye as he brought the microphone to his lips; before he quickly turned away and stared at Sif instead. Except it really wasn't any better; she looked like the smug know-it-all that she was, as if she noticed that brief eye contact and was now twisting it for her own nefarious means.

"Or maybe I could convince Loki to do something for you. Or to you; whatever floats your boat, daddy-o."

"Dear god, if you say anything to him I will literally gut you!" Tony threw his hands up in the air, before covering his face in embarrassment.

Sif grabbed him by both his shoulders, shaking him back and forth, until he dropped his hands to look at her jubilant expression. For whatever reason, he found himself fearful of that look; probably because she knew how he felt about Loki, even if he would deny it until the day he died. Or in the very least, deny it to her until she died; or maybe he'd just kill her, whichever came first.

"I won't say a peep, daddy-o. But we still have to celebrate; after all, we'll be in New Orleans and what better way to spend your birthday than exploring the French Quarter?" She asked, jostling him a bit more.

"Apparently nothing, according to you," he sighed, lifting his eyes back to the stage, and almost going into cardiac arrest.

Loki was in the midst of swaying his hips from side to side, but in a way that was uninhibited compared to his usual stage performance. In fact, Tony imagined that was how fluid he was while in his more intimate moments; and he hated to admit, it would eventually become fodder for his next batch of wet dreams and fantasies.

Loki's head was thrown back and it appeared as if his whole body had been consumed by the music that the band was playing. He moved gracefully as he raised the microphone to his lips, and uttered out several lyrics that stirred that familiar heat in the pit of Tony's stomach again.

He could have stayed there all day, observing everything about Loki; down to the most inane details even. And yet, Sif was pushing him onto his feet with a surprising strength he hadn't known she possessed. He opened his mouth to question her, but was cut short as Sif drug him into the center of the room, and began to dance as she had beforehand.

Despite excelling in many things, Tony was not a dancer and didn't want to make a fool of himself in his attempts to be graceful. Of course, he already knew it was futile to try and stand his ground when it came to Sif; reluctantly he allowed her to tug on his arm, and lead him in some uncoordinated flail of limbs that couldn't stand up to whatever Loki was doing on stage.

Maybe it was leant to Sif's unrelenting and bubbly nature, or maybe he had started to feel delirious from all his earth shattering, sexual thoughts of late. Whatever the reason was, Tony found himself on a natural high as he spun around the room with Sif; the music pulsated through his entire body and at a particularly wide circle he moved through, he was struck by the genuine smile on Loki's lips as he watched the scene unfold.

And Tony knew right then and there, he didn't want to be anywhere but on the road with the band. Regardless of the tension, Loki's frequently asshole-like personality swings, Sif's complete and utter ability to drive him up the wall; he didn't want to be anywhere but here and with them, but more importantly Loki.


	18. Chapter Seventeen :: Dallas II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't even know what to say about this chapter, aside from I hope you enjoy it? XD;
> 
> Unrelated (kind of) but I listened to "Babe I'm Gonna Leave You" by Led Zeppelin a lot while writing this. It has nothing to do with the chapter; but it's a good song.

* * *

 

 

**Chapter Seventeen :: Dallas II**

 

 

* * *

 

Loki was laid out in the aisle of the tour bus, smoking like a train, and looking for all intents and purposes like a man either in need of a proper fuck or a proper rest. It appeared that he had just collapsed dramatically to the ground once he returned from the venue, covered in perspiration and what might have very well been some type of body glitter.

Tony had also fled from the vicinity, mostly to hide from Sif's perpetual buzzing; but he hadn't expected to find Loki sprawled out in front of him, completely uninhibited. And he couldn't help but gape, inwardly cursing those troublesome jeans that Loki always wore and left very little to the imagination; which was the opposite of what Tony needed.

Not to mention, it was probably inadvisable to fantasize about climbing up Loki's body like it were a jungle gym, you know just to gauge his reaction. Since Tony was fairly certain that the response he'd invoke would be a fist to the face; and maybe if he was lucky, he'd have a matching black eye for his troubles.

"Is this the assertiveness of a seasoned reporter?" Loki asked mockingly, while blowing out a perfectly formed smoke ring from between his lips. "Or are you observing me, in order to paint a realistic depiction of me for your article?"

"Loki Odinson, lean and mean, tight jean wearing machine." Tony deadpanned in return, jerking backwards at the abrupt laughter that exploded from his idol; and it was the genuine sort too.

The sound was almost on the verge of being foreign; albeit, it gave Tony a sense of satisfaction knowing that he was the one who caused it. More so still, with the way Loki stomped one foot and shimmied his body, which was so damned sexually arousing Tony swore he might have to leap over him, to get to the lavatory, and take care of business before it became too obvious.

"I knew there was a reason why I liked you." Loki chuckled, before sitting up into a cross-legged position. "Even though you can be a nuisance from time to time; I suspect that's due to your age."

Tony swallowed hard, turning his body towards the closest bunk, and tried not to react like a lovelorn fool by Loki's declaration. Because there was still an insult attached to it; and it wouldn't exactly be Loki, from what he discerned, if he didn't insult you after he praised you.

Slowly, almost predatorily Loki rose from the aisle, before he broached the distance between them. The smell of cigarette smoke preceded him and burnt Tony's nose, although he went completely rigid once a long-fingered hand trailed across his shoulder, and even dared to graze the nape of his neck.

Loki towered over him, suffocated him by being that up close and personal; even though he'd been in a similar position beforehand, this was strangely intimate, and he swore for a split-second that Loki's hand might trail downward, along his side, across his belly, and down, down, down…

"How old will our reporter be on his birthday?" Loki murmured close to his ear. "Will he perhaps be twenty-two? Or maybe twenty-three; or has he been lying to us all from the very beginning?"

"She told you?" Tony was side-swiped, hard, by reality, and was hit face-first with annoyance. "Jesus Christ, is there anything she won't say?"

"Amelia has a fondness for birthday celebrations." Loki pulled away, while taking another drag from his cigarette. "And we all are elated to celebrate with you; we just need to know the appropriate age-related gift to buy you."

"Nice try." Tony gazed at him, glad that Loki had started up the aisle again; only to fall unceremoniously back down into a heap of lithe limbs.

It was becoming painfully obvious, now that he'd been on the receiving end of it, that Loki used physical contact for his own means. It was probably the reason behind why he allowed both Phil and Heimdall to touch him almost intimately; because in the end, he could manipulate someone by the allure of touching him, or even being touched by him.

In retrospect, it all made perfect sense. Loki wasn't dumb; he could probably smell out a person lusting after him from a ten mile radius. And rather than shun the attention, he used it for his benefit; he showed pseudo-interest in the person until he eventually got what he wanted. Case in point, why he touched Tony; he tried to extract his age from him, and when that failed he drew away.

While this revelation was a huge breakthrough on understanding Loki, it also made everything that much more confusing as well. For one, Tony still didn't know how to categorize Loki's sexuality. Everything seemed to point to the fact that he was straight, but at the same time there wasn't any evidence against the fact that he might like men as well.

Furthermore, this hypothesis about Loki's behavior was only that – a hypothesis. He hadn't proven it true; and like any good scientist, not having any substantial data backing up his hypothesis was as good as saying that it was false.

"Why does it matter how old I am?" Tony finally spoke, turning to face Loki once he was sure his body was under control; but only barely. "You've said it yourself, I'm smart and you've called Thor stupid, and he's older than you. So technically age is just a number,"

Loki hummed softly, before he stretched in a way that was just getting ridiculous; it was as if he was doing it on purpose. And since his hypothesis was noteworthy, especially at that moment; Tony had to figure it was another method Loki used to get his way. He exploited people's weaknesses and Tony's biggest weakness was him.

"Your age means nothing to me." Loki groaned, seemingly pleased by his bout of stretching. "What means something to me, Tony Stark, is the lie. And I hate to be lied to; even when it's something as insignificant as a number; because that means there are bigger lies, lies beyond my wildest dreams hiding in the background. Trust me, I would know."

"Of course, liar to liar," Tony supplied, throwing caution to the wind, and walking closer until he was hovering above the long limbed anomaly. "Which makes me wonder, what exactly are you lying about? It must be a doozy for you to be as paranoid as you are about me. I mean your manager told you, you only had twenty-two shows to go, well technically twenty now. So I wonder what that could possibly mean."

"Oh, I will tell you exactly what that means." Loki narrowed his eyes. "It means we have twenty more gigs to go; we have eight more stateside, then we have three in Ireland, two in Germany, one in Holland, and six in England. And since we've been touring Europe non-stop for almost a year and a half, after these shows – we get a break."

"So that means you aren't-"

"That means I go home to my shoddy little flat in London, and will have some peace and quiet without being bothered relentlessly by Thor, Volstagg, and Fandral. And I will not have to answer a reporter's questions whenever I have a private conversation with my manager." Loki sat up abruptly, perfectly aligned with Tony's groin. "So whatever little fantasy you've conjured up, rest assured that isn't the case."

Something told Tony not to contradict Loki; specifically with that serious expression on his face. After all, he'd already been introduced to what Loki could do when he was pushed too far. And he was in no position to question him now; seeing as his groin was in head-butting range, and that wasn't exactly what he wanted from Loki at that level.

"Do you understand me, Stark?" Loki asked.

"I hear you loud and clear." He offered only to jump in surprise, as Loki's hand slid slowly up his thigh and settled underneath the bulge in his pocket.

Suddenly it became hard to breathe and he was reminded of his first time with a girl whose name he couldn't recall at the moment. It was on the tip of his tongue, but it would not surface; it didn't have a chance when Loki was staring up at him with heavy lidded eyes, bedroom eyes, almost inviting him to join him on the floor and into a sloppy embrace.

His legs quaked as Loki's fingers dipped into his pocket, never once breaking the eye contact that they established. He felt his fingers wriggle further into the depths of his pocket, before they slid out and took with them the tape recorder Tony had hurriedly stuffed inside there after the gig.

"Just making sure that you weren't recording me without my consent," Loki smirked, peering at the tape recorder briefly, before stuffing it back into his pocket. "I don't trust reporters and I most certainly do not trust you, Tony Stark."

Despite his best efforts, Tony let out a weird noise somewhere between a moan and a grunt; which only threatened to resurface as Loki climbed onto his knees, and slowly rose to his feet. He was almost plastered against him and the sensation was a dizzying one.

He teetered forward, only for Loki to ground him with a hand to the waist. But it left far too soon for his liking and mostly because of the sudden eruption of sound at the front of the bus. And since it was the norm on the Odin's Sons' tour, someone was screaming at the top of their lungs at someone else; which was quickly revealed to be Sif and Thor.

Whatever game Loki was playing with Tony ended then and there. The older man quickly maneuvered himself around him, and started towards the front of the bus as if he hadn't just tried to make Tony's brain explode with prolonged physical contact; which was just typical.

Once he gathered his bearings, Tony staggered after Loki, and directly into the fray. Thor and Sif were screaming at one another, both red in the face, and flailing wildly as if that could get their point across better than simple words alone.

"You are such a hypocrite, so do not stand there and accuse me of something you're already guilty of!" Thor boomed; pointing his finger in Sif's face; which Tony learned from a very early age was the wrong thing to do to any woman.

Howard learned that lesson the hard way, when good 'ol Maria bit his finger and drew blood. Of course, Tony had learned that life lesson after an awkward family dinner when he was ten; and he had not forgotten it to that day. But lucky for Thor, Sif didn't use her teeth against him for the offense.

"I am not guilty of anything! You, on the other hand, were practically propositioning that ugly slut!" Sif screamed shrilly.

"And your constant flirtation with my own brother is okay?! I'm not stupid, Amelia!" Thor looked murderous. "I see how he looks at you! And I see how you look at him!"

"Then you would realize I look at her like you should." Loki intervened, after remaining mum for much of the exchange; and as was to be expected, both Thor and Sif whipped around to stare at him with differing degrees of exasperation.

Tony looked in between them, unsure of what he'd stumbled into. But one thing was for certain, he felt something unpleasant clawing inside of him again; and he didn't like what it meant. While in some of his weaker moments, Tony could admit, begrudgingly so, that his attraction for Loki was only human nature; and that his level of jealousy was just a byproduct of it. However, he hated it more and more; he hated how much he _despised_ Sif when it came to the surface.

Thor shoved Sif aside, none too kindly, before he was toe-to-toe with Loki; he grabbed a fistful of his oxford, and shook him like he'd done during their initial fight. Thor looked like he could very well kill Loki right then and there, and wouldn't have any regrets about it either; which apparently only seemed to be fueled by Loki's aloof response.

"Say that again to me, you flighty little arsehole!" Thor shouted. "I know you can, now that you've removed Hamish's prick from your mouth!"

"It took more than my voice to ensure your success, Thor. It also took my throat." Loki seethed, although Tony really couldn't tell if this was a lie or not; nor could Thor for that matter, or so it seemed.

"You sick bastard!" Thor shoved Loki back as hard as he could, which sent him careening into Tony; and in turn, sent them both crashing to the ground. "I have the right mind to kill you!"

The next few seconds happened almost like it was in slow motion. Thor lurched forward, swinging his leg, and aiming his booted foot at Loki; but somehow, beyond his own understanding, Tony managed to shimmy his way from underneath Loki, and shield him before the kick landed. And it might have been the worst decision of his life.

Thor kicked him in the kidneys, just as he'd done to Loki previously, and the pain was excruciating. It exploded in a white-hot ache that went throughout his entire body, while effectively stealing the breath right out of him.

He crumbled like dead weight immediately, falling against Loki; but he didn't even care about that, couldn't think of anything beyond the realm of pain that he felt. Even when the screaming escalated to an ear-splitting decibel; he could only focus on the pain and how he swore he might die from it; especially since he'd never been in a fight and experienced that kind of pain before; even though his witty personality frequently got him into trouble.

Strong arms hoisted him up, which just jarred the pain further. A pained noise forced its way out of Tony's lips and he was almost certain that he might vomit; although by the grace of god, he managed to keep the little bit of food he had eaten that day down.

Loki snarled something above his head, before carrying him somewhere undetermined. Except all signs pointed towards him being taken to the back of the bus; which was just fine and dandy, since he really needed to lie down anyway. And at least now, well he got to be close to Loki, and he reveled in that even as he started to lose consciousness and everything slowly faded to black.


	19. Chapter Eighteen :: New Orleans

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know how I've written this so quickly, but here it is nonetheless. I just hope it's satisfactory. And I was briefly thinking about extending the New Orleans portion of the story from the usual two chapters to three; mostly because there be so much going on. Or I could just actually write a massive chapter instead. What do you guys think?
> 
> Anyway I hope you enjoy it!

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**Chapter Eighteen :: New Orleans**

 

 

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Tony wouldn't have described his seventeenth birthday as ideal; in fact, it started off on the wrong foot already and it was only eleven o'clock in the morning. The telephone receiver was still pressed firmly to his ear, even though the line had already gone dead, and his mother's words were still fresh in his mind.

It had been a mistake to phone home; he should have called Obie to check-in, since Obie never called him every unmentionable name in the book. Only to top off the whole rant, by telling him to not to come home under any circumstance; not even to collect his possessions. Obie would have just called him Baby Howard and maybe asked where he went off to. But he definitely wouldn't have been as cruel as his mother had been; not by a long shot.

Slowly he hung up the phone and blindly looked around the motel room. He didn't know how to feel; usually he would just box up all the awful things he'd been called, and let them simmer under the surface until he exploded on his fortieth birthday. And he would have done just that, had he not felt so vulnerable and a little hurt.

He curled up onto the bed, feeling the pangs of his bruised kidneys still. Thor had really done a number on him, leveling him out for a good day and a half; but he was far from apologetic and shifted the blame onto Tony for getting involved in a situation that didn't concern him. He even had the gall to say his objectivity was skewed; which was probably the stupidest argument Tony had ever heard, and explained why Loki frequently belittled Thor's brain power.

His objectivity was fine; the notes he had compiled hadn't been anything more than honest. He hadn't described Thor as a walking time bomb, who envied the hell out of his younger brother. Nor had he described Loki as the messiah himself, even though he was compelled to do so; maybe to change the tide in his direction, since a stroke to his ego was exactly what Loki seemed to crave for.

Tony shut his eyes, taking several measured breaths in, and somehow maintaining his cool. It wasn't like any of the things he'd been called by his mother were new; they were rehashed insults, no doubt from the arsenal she used against his father when they'd been married, and most certainly when they were getting divorce.

The name calling and spitefulness, he believed, really wasn't the reason behind his emotional state though. He actually thought it had very little to do with his mother at all; it was only the aggravation from hearing those insults after so long, that topped the emotional roller coaster he was currently on. And even for someone who prided himself in being emotionally devoid, Tony couldn't help but be affected by the chaos around him twenty-four seven.

Being on tour with a band in peril really had a way of influencing your mood. Tony felt tired, stretched to his limitations at times; which was only made worse by Loki. Loki had been bad for him; he made him feel far too much, forced him to second guess everything he knew about himself, and then tossed him away like yesterday's garbage.

Loki had declared psychological warfare on him, and so far he was winning. He toyed with Tony from day one; he played the evasive card, the nonchalant one, the overly involved one, the physically interested one, and currently he had combined evasive and nonchalant into a whole new stage of torture.

After the debacle in Dallas, Loki had made himself scarce; only cropping up whenever it was absolutely necessary. So much of the time between the past few days, involved Loki hiding in his bunk or launching himself off the tour bus as soon as it came to a halt. But Tony had to at least give him credit for stopping by his bunk, while he was still curled up in pain and asked him if he was all right; even if he just said _all right_ , which he figured was a British thing.

Tony shouldn't have expected anymore from the guy; even though he had taken a kick to the kidneys, he expected at least some sort of acknowledgement. Then again it was Loki, and Loki had a habit of being an insensitive dick most of the time anyway.

The jiggle of a motel key in the lock slowly drew Tony out of his emotional peril, and he peered over his shoulder as the door slid open. Sif was on the other end, carrying a shopping bag in one hand, which looked like it might very well tear before she was securely in the room.

"Hey, daddy-o," she called out to him, smiling. "I brought a few things for your birthday celebration. But it's way too early to start up now; well unless you're Volstagg that is."

Tony regarded her, but didn't say anything. He watched her as she circled the bed and deposited her bag onto the other twin sized one across from him. Several bottles of alcohol poked out from the bag, which momentarily piqued his interest; but it soon dissipated to silent resignation. It probably wouldn't be the best idea to drink while still recovering from a size thirteen boot to the kidneys.

"I don't know if you feel up to coming along to the gig; you know, since it's just going to be the same old thing. Same songs mostly, different crowd," Sif continued, before she started to pull out several large bottles of liquor from the bag, and line them up one by one on the bedside table. "I'm sure you've finally got sick of it. Remember when you thought I was?"

"I'm not sick of it." Tony finally spoke. "I'll go, so long as Thor keeps his distance; because right now I'm not in the mood to deal with his bullshit."

"No one's in the mood to deal with his bullshit." Sif said seriously, while turning one of the bottles so its label was visible. "But soon enough we won't have to."

"What do you mean?"

"There's only a couple of weeks left on tour, daddy-o. So you'll head on home and finish that out of sight article of yours. And we'll head home; but I won't be going on their mini tour of Europe."

"So you don't tour with them all the time?" He asked, grazing his side with a cautious hand.

Sif plopped onto the opposite bed, offering him a shake of the head as a response. Now that he thought about it, he didn't know very much about Sif beyond the basics. He knew she was an army brat, clearly American, and that her first name was Amelia, and she had a tumultuous relationship with Thor. But other than that, she was a mystery.

"This is the first time I toured with them; mostly because I missed things stateside. It's been awhile since I've been here, and since we have holiday at university; what better way to spend the summer?" She smiled, before toying with the bottles again.

"Considering we've spent so much time with each other, we don't technically know much about one another." Tony gazed at her until she met his eyes.

"Okay, since it's your birthday I'll tell you all about me. Until you're practically weeping from boredom; but in exchange, you can at least give me a few details about you. Whatever you want, of course; because like I said, it is your birthday,"

"Deal,"

"My name is Amelia Fenton; I am nineteen years old; born on April seventh in Charleston, South Carolina. But I spent much of my childhood in Germany and Italy." She rolled her eyes, before smiling at him again. "My family moved to Essex four years ago; and about that time I met the band, after I snuck into one of their gigs at a pub. Been with Thor ever since; even if my dad wants him dead."

"How old are they anyway? Loki told me his age, but he probably lied."

"Volstagg is the oldest, he's thirty-four; Thor and Fandral are both thirty; and Loki's twenty-six, will be twenty-seven in October." She explained.

Tony was struck by two things right away. The first being that Loki had actually told him the truth about his age, and the second being the the age difference between Sif and Thor; but even more so than that, they'd been together since Thor was twenty-six and Sif was fifteen. Which made the age difference between him and Loki look conservative; although it wasn't like they were dating, or planning on dating, or even having unspeakable, filthy sex.

Sif smirked at him, almost as if she could read his mind. He just hoped she could read his mind about his disbelief over her relationship with Thor, rather than his desire to have filthy sex with Loki. And really, he didn't even want to divulge into that now, since he was in pain and his mother practically just threw him out of the house.

"I know the age difference is pretty daunting. But Loki is at least a good five years older than you."

"No, no he isn't." Tony said, suddenly compelled to tell her the truth. "Between you and me, he's more like ten years older than me."

"Ten years older," Sif repeated, before the realization hit her; and it would have probably been comical if he felt in any mood to laugh.

Her reaction went through several different stages, shocked silly to dawning realization, and finally acceptance; although her eyes were still as round as dinner plates, as if she couldn't possibly imagine that he was that young; younger than her even.

"You threw me through a loop with that one, daddy-o." She laughed. "I thought you looked young, but I had no idea you were _that_ young."

"And I didn't know that Thor was robbing the cradle either. But we learn new stuff about one another every day." Tony couldn't help but crack a grin at the annoyed look that flashed across her face. "I just would prefer it if you kept it on the down low, especially from Loki."

"My lips are sealed."

"Well, since it is my birthday, do you mind telling me a little about him?" He hesitated briefly, but already knew it was stupid to continue to deny his attraction to Loki at this point.

Sif was already fully aware of it, and the perpetual denial would only fuel that knowledge further. It, however, was pretty apparent now, since Tony did decide a kick to the kidneys was in order just to save Loki some pain; which he clearly could withstand by his miraculous recovery after his fight with Thor.

Several moments passed without any response from her, which in turn made Tony feel incredibly self-conscious about his request. It was the closest thing to an admission as he could get; fueled further by his sudden need to squirm, despite the ache in his back.

"Loki went to university for architecture, but didn't finish his degree because of money issues. He never wanted to be a part of the band; he ultimately stuck with it because it made far more money than working at a pub." Sif recited slowly. "He came close to marrying several years ago; only to change his mind about the whole affair months before the wedding. Never found out why though."

Something told Tony that the reason was actually Sif; and that was hard to deal with. Even though he hadn't even known Loki years ago, probably wouldn't have given a damn at first sight (since the attraction started with his voice); it still hurt to know that Sif had some kind of control over him. She gotten him to call off his engagement to someone else; and while that was only speculation, Tony felt like it was true.

This unassuming, bright-eyed girl had the equivalent of a god underneath her thumb; and for whatever reason she was either unaware of it, or was kind enough not to take advantage of it. Not many people would be able to show that much self-control, Loki included.

"I just called my mom." He piped up, desperate to say anything that wasn't related to Sif and Loki. "When you were out; I called her and checked in, thinking maybe she would have missed me, wanted me to come home. But instead, she went ape-shit crazy on me; told me I was a worthless piece of shit and everything else you could think of. Then she told me not to bother coming home."

"She really said that?"

"Yeah," he affirmed with a half-shrug. "She was probably recovering from a hangover, and I called just when the headache hit its peak. But it would probably be for the best if I stayed with the old man for a while; you know if he's not too busy with that French model of his."

"There are a lot of things I don't know about you, Tony." Sif murmured softly. "But something tells me you're really sad and really lonely; just like Loki is. The only difference is that Loki would never tell anyone his problems; he rather suffer alone."

Tony felt a pang of pain, but it hadn't anything to do with his kidneys. He generally did suffer alone and he would have preferred to keep people out of his business. And yet, there was something about Sif that made him just blurt out things without a second thought; which might very well be the reason behind Loki's attraction to her.

Maybe that's all either of them needed, was someone that would fucking listen without being a judgment ass about it. Tony certainly hadn't had anyone like that; James, while his best friend, wasn't someone he confided in when it came to all the emotional baggage he carried around all day, every day. But Sif was a soothing presence and he found himself really appreciating her at the moment.

"It's never too early for a drink, sister. Now pass me something that'll numb the pain, but keep me relatively sober." He held out a hand, only for it to be taken between both of hers instead; and before he knew it, she pressed a kiss to one of his knuckles.

"It is your birthday, daddy-o. And trust me when I say this is only the beginning." She smiled at him. "You'll forget all your troubles, once I give you your present. And I have a feeling you'll love me forever."

"If I get to kick Thor in the kidneys then you're on."


	20. Chapter Nineteen :: New Orleans II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to combine two chapters and make one large one (albeit large might be an exaggeration). And well, I think it turned out okay; so I hope it's satisfactory and not completely lame. =___=;;
> 
> Oh, I would also like to thank everyone again for all the sweet comments. To be honest, this was really only a side story (for fun) while I wrote my other major story, so to see it being embraced so much really gives me warm, fuzzy feelings. Thank you so much!

 

 

* * *

 

 

**Chapter Nineteen :: New Orleans II**

 

 

* * *

 

"Your predilection towards roofs really makes me nervous." Tony gulped, staring up at Loki whose legs were tossed over the side of the building with his guitar balanced across his thighs. "Please tell me you haven't taken anything that one of the flower children has given you."

Loki didn't readily respond; instead he strummed his guitar slowly, before building onto it and creating a melody that was all too familiar to Tony. Hell, anyone within a hundred mile radius, not to mention the whole world over, would know that tune.

Warmth flooded his body from head to toe; he even suspected he might very well be blushing, but his embarrassment took a backseat to the sheer joy of the moment. He hadn't expected this when Sif shooed him away from tour bus, telling him to wait beside the theater until everything was ready for him. And he especially hadn't prepared himself to find Loki on the roof with his guitar, wearing a well-loved leather jacket.

Softly Loki began to sing, which was always thrilling to Tony, but more so now that he was actually singing to him. He wasn't singing at him but to him; and while the words had been sung to him before, sung to the greater half of the world every year of their life, this was by far the most special occasion to date.

"Happy Birthday to you," Loki sang. "Happy Birthday to you; Happy Birthday dear _Anthony_ ; Happy Birthday to you,"

The childish ditty was akin to a live wire; Tony felt almost faint and a little sick, mostly because he shouldn't have been that thrilled about being sung the birthday song, and yet he felt almost on the verge of delirious. He swayed slightly on his feet, watching as Loki played a few more chords before shooting him a mischievous look.

"You are mine tonight, Stark." He grinned. "And the French Quarter is my wonderland."

"I have plans." Tony replied, although the words sounded completely inhuman.

"Oh, you have no such plans. Amelia has given you to me for the evening. And I intend on corrupting you to the best of my abilities; so prepare yourself." Loki slowly rose from his seated position, teetered momentarily, until doing something that almost gave Tony a heart attack.

Without so much as a moment of hesitation, Loki leapt off the corner of the building with his guitar still in hand; which was followed by a metallic sound, maybe even the sound of a perfectly living human being coming to an end when he met the hard and dirty pavement.

Tony stood there in shock, rooted to the spot; but he somehow managed to scramble towards the alleyway, where Loki must have fallen to his death, or in the very least severely injured himself, and halted once he saw the bastard was propped onto the lid of a dumpster with a shit-eating grin on his face. And maybe if Tony hadn't very strong feelings for Loki, he might have extracted the guitar from his hand and beat him to death with it.

His heart was beating erratically, almost to the point where he swore his seventeenth birthday might have very well been his last. Hell, he probably gained a few white hairs from the scare Loki subjected him to; which was just fine and dandy, since he would really look like Baby Howard and invoke further wrath from the banshee who birthed him.

"I told you to prepare yourself." Loki shrugged, before leaping feline-like to the ground.

"You asshole," Tony choked out, disregarding the tremor in his voice. "You miserable _cunt_ ,"

"Normally I would make you regret those words; but since it is your birthday, I'll spare you a fight you cannot possibly win. Now collect yourself; I don't want to be seen with a blubbering child." Loki retorted as he made his way past him and towards the tour bus. "But first and foremost, I need to drop my guitar off; I rather not carry it around and have drunkards demand I play things for them."

Words failed Tony; he stood there, succumbed by utter shock and terror, and could barely turn about to watch as Loki approached the tour bus, rapping on the door until Sif peeked out. She was grinning ear-to-ear, none the wiser to Loki's little prank; and Tony swore if he could speak, he would have tattled on him right then and there.

However, he could only stare like a deer in the headlights; while somehow mustering the strength to lift his hand and wave at Sif who returned the gesture, before taking Loki's guitar, and once more disappearing into the bus.

"Come on now. I haven't the rest of my life to entertain you." Loki demanded, only to grow frustrated by Tony's immobility, and grabbed him by the shoulders in order to direct him towards the street that was already lined with a colorful menagerie of people.

New Orleans was a lively city all year long; although it really came to life during Mardi Gras. Tony had been there by mistake during the celebration; or maybe it was more like accidentally coming across the festivities when he was specifically told by Howard to remain in the hotel room until further notice. And well, a precocious kid like him didn't simply follow directions; and by the time he was found to be missing it was already five in the morning, and he had had already quite the adventure.

He'd been fairly young then, and things were bound to be far different now. For one, he was in the company of a psychopath whom was steering him towards the French Quarter, and into the heart of Sodom and Gomorrah.

Tony was directed through the adjoining neighborhoods, frequently distracted by the rowdy crowds and the musicians that lined the streets. But he wasn't given the opportunity to explore; Loki clearly had a goal in mind, and wasn't about to stray from whatever it was; which only made Tony both nervous and wary.

If things were going to be as unpredictable as Loki jumping off a building, well he really didn't want any part of it. Coming close to having a heart attack more than once in a matter of weeks, really wasn't healthy and was something Tony wanted to avoid at all costs; especially since his health was already compromised by being kicked in the kidneys a few days ago.

"Where are we going?" He piped up, as they continued walking for what felt like a small eternity.

"I already told you – the French Quarter. But if I must be so bloody specific, Bourbon Street." Loki scoffed. "Where else would one go beside Bourbon Street anyway?"

"Do you really think that's a good idea?"

"Every idea I've ever had has been good."

"Like wearing a fucking leather jacket in bayou weather, you mean?" Tony returned, only to quiet down when Loki's hold became exponentially tighter.

Before he knew it, thank god for small miracles, Tony walked into the bustling crowds that encompassed the legendary French Quarter. If the adjoining neighborhoods were lively with activity, well they had nothing on the French Quarter. And despite it not even being ten o'clock at night, people were already shit-faced, and staggering about with open containers in hands.

Loki unhanded him momentarily, choosing instead to grip his forearm than his shoulders, and dragged him onto Bourbon Street. Fluorescent lights flashed and hummed, advertising a variety of bars and even more inappropriate pastimes. Tony found himself both intimidated and frightened that Loki actually might take him to some seedy place to catch a live sex show, or maybe get him a prostitute to celebrate the occasion; since he really didn't know Loki all that well, after all.

But his fears were put to rest, once he was pulled towards the Old Absinthe House; which was already packed to the brim with patrons. Loki moved through the crowd without any trouble; people seemed privy to move out of his way, some out of intimidation but quite a few out of undiluted lust.

Both men and women seemed to be taken with him, staring appreciatively after him, and fueling Tony's jealousy once more. Even if he was still recovering from Thor's kick, Tony felt compelled to pick a fight with more than his fair share of people who were eyeing Loki like he was a slab of meat.

Loki sidled up to the bar, finally releasing Tony again; but this time he didn't make a grab for another part of him now that they were securely in the place he wanted to be. The bartender, a good looking kid that probably had more than enough experience with the male persuasion, approached their side of the bar, and leaned closer than necessary towards Loki.

"What's your poison, darling?" The bartender asked cheekily, speaking above the rambunctious sounds of the patrons.

"Arsenic, actually," Tony blurted out. "But he rather buy it to quench your thirst."

Loki laughed naturally for the second time at Tony's quip, which quickly dropped the bartender down a couple of pegs. The guy shot him a look that would have very well killed him, but he only grinned back and willed him to say anything in return.

"Water for me and let's see," Loki turned to Tony suddenly. "Why not bourbon, it seems so fitting and utterly overplayed, on the rocks for my friend here."

The bartender made an affirmative of some sort, although Tony quickly forgot about him since Loki was now looking at him. There was a strange mixture of curiosity and fascination behind that stare, maybe even a spark of something feral. Or at least Tony hoped that was in the realm of possibility.

In no time flat, the bartender returned with their drinks; he slammed both their glasses onto the bar, before sticking out his hand for payment. Loki delivered it immediately, slapping an undetermined amount into his awaiting palm, and demanding that they get refills when the time came to that.

"Now Mr. Stark, pray tell how old are you today?" Loki raised his glass, but didn't take a drink.

"Old enough to know better than to tell you," Tony grinned, also raising his glass. "To liars,"

"A strange toast, indeed," Loki muttered, but clanked his glass against Tony's nonetheless.

"Oh, I'm only getting started. So I guess maybe you should have prepared yourself, instead of the other way around."

"Oh, I think not." Loki leaned in conspiratorially. "As I said, you are mine for the evening, Tony Stark. And do not forget, the French Quarter is my wonderland; which leaves you at a disadvantage for someone so very young."

"I'll give you that you almost gave me a fucking heart attack with the whole jumping off the building thing. But don't underestimate me, buddy. I'm a lot tougher than I look; I mean I survived a kick to the kidneys by Thor, thunder god." Tony leaned in too, so close that he could see the flicks of gold in Loki's irises.

Loki took a drink from his glass, never once breaking the eye contact they established. There was a challenging glint to Loki's eyes, which should have frightened Tony but instead did the exact opposite – it thrilled him.

"The night is still young."

"Happy Birthday to me," Tony raised his glass again, before throwing back his entire drink, and cringing once the whiskey made its way down his gullet and into his stomach.

And he knew then that he'd definitely regret it in the morning.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The world was spinning; it was a kaleidoscope of colors and sounds, all rushing past him at a sickening speed. Tony felt both nauseous and enchanted by the sensation; which was to say, that it was the drunkest he'd ever been in his entire life. He was drunk in New Orleans, in the French Quarter, on Bourbon Street with Loki fucking Odinson at his side.

Technically Loki was not at his side at all, but pressed against his back with his legs sprawled open to accommodate his body that was in between them. Tony remembered vaguely being pulled to sit between Loki's legs because he'd tried to escape from the building, once Loki passed a bill to a beautiful brunette, and was instructed to give the birthday boy a show he wouldn't soon forget.

Of course, Loki hadn't taken too kindly at his attempts to escape; therefore they were now chest to back with a stripper balanced across Tony's thighs, with the crazy old bastard clinging to his wrists as if he was insane enough to reach up and grab a handful of flesh that was being thrust into his face. And while Tony couldn't deny he was a little turned on by getting his first lap dance; he found being pressed so close to Loki to be even more erotic than that.

The smell of artificial cherries was strong in his nostrils, but it was easily trumped by the mixture of old leather, cigarette smoke, and cologne that hadn't any name. It was simply Loki and the fact that he was getting an erection over it, really was something he'd be ashamed of if he wasn't already piss-drunk.

The brunette seemed to notice his problem right away, before sliding around to grind her bottom into his groin with a sweet, almost unassuming smile. Tony had to figure Loki had given her a lot of money for this, since she was so receptive to ease some of the pain he was experiencing; which only resulted in him making a strangled noise, before he attempted to break his hands free of Loki's hold, except he held steadfast.

"Hands to yourself," Loki murmured against the shell of his ear, sending another jolt to his groin that was heightened by the stripper grinding against him. "The whole point of this is to test your own restraint; mind over matter."

"More like fucking torture." He gasped, suddenly very aware of Loki's body pressed against him.

The first thing he noticed right away, since his mind was completely consumed by arousal, was that Loki was in no way interested in the proceedings. He wasn't anywhere near hard, although Tony could feel his groin pressed into his back. It was kind of hard not to feel it with how big it was; and that thought only spurred on his rapidly growing hard-on to painful proportions.

The stripper slowly turned back around just as Loki released one of Tony's hands, and slipped her another bill. She peeked into her hand, smiling a thousand watt smile at him; no doubt very pleased by the transaction.

"It was a pleasure, gentlemen." She said in a Louisiana drawl. "Even if you do have an interesting situation here,"

"We do it differently in Europe, love." Loki crooned seductively and Tony was fairly certain the bastard winked at her as well.

"I'll keep that in mind." The stripper giggled, before sliding out of Tony's lap and finally strutting away towards a group of sweat-stained tourists whose wives hadn't any clue where they slipped off to.

Tony remained rooted to the spot, feeling both relieved and annoyed that the woman was no longer dealing with the problem that she partially created. But it was probably for the better if he didn't find any relief, since then he'd have to drunkenly stumble about in a pair of soiled jeans; which definitely wouldn't be fun to do.

"Up you go," Loki said suddenly, dragging his hands to rest on his hips, and pushing him into a wobbly but standing position. "I think you've had enough fun for the night."

"You can never have enough fun!"

"I have to disagree with you there." Loki soon got to his feet, wrapping an arm around his neck to keep him close by; seeing as the probability of Tony doing something stupid and lust fueled was marginally higher than it was before they stepped into the strip club.

To be honest, he really couldn't say how long he'd been subjected to half-naked women; then again, he couldn't be sure how much he had to drink either. Everything was a whirlwind of half-remembered thoughts and maybe even a few memories that weren't really even memories at all, but tricks of the mind.

Tony staggered alongside Loki, snaking his arm around his waist, if only to keep upright. But he couldn't deny how giddy the contact made him feel; more so when he was hyper-sensitive to touch, and wanting nothing more than to press up against Loki's body and relieve himself appropriately.

They wound their way through the dark club, eventually finding the exit, and walking into the cool New Orleans' air. It smelled like rain but it also smelled like cigarette smoke, liquor, sex, and weed. People were still meandering along the streets, some as fucked up as Tony was; and others exasperatedly trying to lead them along, maybe to bed or maybe even to the next bar.

Tony leaned most of his weight onto Loki, weakened by the abuse he'd put his body through. Somewhere past his drunken state, he knew he shouldn't have consumed so much alcohol, especially due to his kidney issues. But everything was always so much clearer in retrospect; although that thought would only be fueled by clarity once he woke up in excruciating pain.

"Come on." Loki started down the street, only to pause after a few strides to light a cigarette and take a long drag from it, before continuing their walk; or in Tony's case, staggering and swaying haphazardly about.

Some time in between Loki trying to steer him in the right direction, running into fellow drunkards, stoners, and plain bat-shit crazies of the city, a boom of thunder echoed overhead. Tony let out a strangled noise of surprise, maybe even a yelp if you wanted to get technical; before a soft mist of rain fell from the sky.

They weren't even off of Bourbon Street yet, and god only knew how far away they were from the tour bus or the motel room. Loki cursed softly, before dragging Tony underneath the awning of a nearby building. Much of the other people in the street, were skittering into the closest bar; and it was only a matter of time before they found themselves alone, aside from the stray pedestrian running for cover elsewhere.

The rain continued for not very long, settling into a lazy drizzle, but it was long enough to make Tony more than a little reckless. The awning wasn't wide enough to cater to two people; so Loki was angled closer than he probably would have been otherwise, although he seemed to enjoy being touchy-feely tonight even if it was only for shits and giggles. And that only made Tony that much bolder, stupider even.

"I'll tell you my age, if you promise to give me a gift." Tony guffawed, leaning back against the brick building.

"You've already gotten the gift of my presence. Not to mention you've drunk me out of house and home; and your lady of the night wasn't very cheap either." Loki drawled and flicked the ash off of the tip of his dwindling cigarette, as he observed the rain soaked street. "I believe it's my right to know now."

"You have no rights with me, buddy."

"Cheeky as always, regardless of how piss-drunk you are." Loki eyed him disinterestedly, but even in his compromised state, Tony knew that he was intrigued by finally knowing the truth. "But so be it; what else could you possibly want from me, Stark?"

Reckless was probably the understatement of the century, when it came to what Tony did next. He could already predict that he'd regret it in the morning, maybe for the rest of his life even. And yet, that didn't deter him one bit from grabbing a hold of Loki by the front of his leather jacket, pivoting onto his tip-toes, and staring him directly in the eyes.

Loki parted his lips, as if he might speak; but Tony was quick on the uptake. He kissed him hard, demanding, and took advantage of his parted lips by sliding his tongue into his mouth that tasted smoky and had a twist of spearmint to it too.

It was a one-sided kiss, which seemed to go on forever; and yet Tony was too wanton and stupid to stop himself. He knew he'd regret it, already would beat himself up over it; maybe he'd even call Obie to wire him some money and get the hell back to Dodge, because this was a horrible idea, a lethal one.

Suddenly he was being shoved harshly away, knocking out the air from his lungs. He let out a pained noise, while he looked up to see a breathless Loki, whose lips were swollen and red from the kiss Tony forced onto him. There was something both terrifying and arousing about the sight; he knew he crossed the line, even though he was completely drunk and horny. He should have known better and Jesus Christ, he knew it once Loki advanced on him.

Before he knew it, Loki gripped his chin tightly, and smothered his mouth with his. Tony moaned in spite of himself, kissing him back until he was dizzy. More so even, when Loki's tongue slid past his lips and tangled with his, and he had to grasp onto the back of his jacket just to remain upright.

As quickly as it started, it came to an abrupt end, leaving Tony to whimper pathetically. He watched as Loki pushed away and took a drag off his cigarette, before tossing it into a nearby puddle, and turning to face him once more. He still looked slightly debauched and unkempt, but otherwise perfectly unaffected.

"How old are you?"

"Seventeen," Tony gasped.

"Too young for me," Loki said seriously and lowered into a crouch. "Come on, little Stark; you are in no position to walk now."

It took several moments, but Tony finally understood what Loki was suggesting. He staggered forward, bending at the waist, and wrapped his arms around Loki's neck. Soon enough, Tony was hoisted up and into a piggy-back position; which was awkward since he was pressing a painful hard-on against Loki's back, although he didn't address it.

Loki carried him into the cool drizzle, walking steady, and in no way compromised by the extra weight that Tony provided. In fact, the walk was almost leisurely, as if Loki wanted to catalogue every detail of Bourbon Street in his mind. After all, who really knew when he'd be back?

"Loki," Tony slurred after several peaceable minutes. "What did you mean when you said I was too young for you?"

"Precisely what I said," Loki hummed.

"Sif's only fucking nineteen."

"That means nothing to me; she is my brother's girlfriend not mine."

"But you love her."

"That doesn't mean it's meant to be." Loki sighed, but seemed more than willing to explain himself; more than likely because Tony was fucked up. "Sometimes, you miss out on the opportunity to find the love of your life. But it doesn't mean that you're restricted to only one. You can have multiple loves, even on the same degree of ferocity as _the_ one."

"What do you mean?"

"You'll have many chances to love, Anthony."

"I thought we were talking about you." Tony scrunched up his nose, confused by the roundabout.

"Maybe if you were older things would be different." Loki muttered. "But I'm not the one for you, as much as Amelia isn't the one for me."

Tony tightened his hold on Loki, struck by hopelessness and probably heartache. It was bad enough that he wasn't used to the whole emotional thing, but combined with his physical vulnerabilities and drunkenness, he felt ten times worse. And he really hated feeling like that; hated feeling so many things all at once, and being that attached to a single person.

"You fucked up my birthday, you asshole." Tony buried his face against his neck.

"Then grow up, become a successful reporter, and come for me." Loki laughed. "And maybe I'll submit."

"You'll bend over backwards for me."

"Maybe I will." Loki laughed again. "Maybe I will."


	21. Chapter Twenty :: Nashville

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have to say you guys have really made my day; the response I've gotten really has blown me away (again). Thank you so, so much for the reviews and kudos! I can't believe so many of you like this story so much; but it makes me tremendously happy despite my disbelief.
> 
> And because it's Valentine's Day, I wanted to update; even though this probably won't be what you're expecting. But I hope you enjoy it nonetheless...and please don't kill me.
> 
> Unrelated, but I was listening to "The Sound of Silence" by Simon & Garfunkel while writing the past half of it. So you might want to check it out?

* * *

 

**Chapter Twenty :: Nashville**

 

* * *

 

Tony felt like death warmed over; and yet he somehow still managed to do another lengthy round of interviews with both Volstagg and Fandral. He'd gotten everything he needed from them, without either vomiting or curling into a ball and begging for mercy; which was a vast improvement from that morning.

Much of the drive to Nashville had consisted of Tony spending much of his time in the lavatory, being soothed by the only person with a soul which had been Sif. Everyone else had blatantly ignored him or congratulated Loki on showing him a good time; which in both cases only aggravated the situation further.

But Loki was the worst, as he was prone to be by nature and nurture alike. He had gone into complete nonchalant mode, having disappeared from the tour bus in the wee morning hours; and had barely resurfaced for the sound check. He hadn't even asked Tony if he was okay, after encouraging him to drink himself into oblivion; nor would he even look at him at all.

For all Tony knew, he'd become invisible to the bastard; which he suspected had a lot to do with what happened the previous night. Despite being piss-drunk and experiencing the ultimate hangover from hell, Tony was all too aware of what transpired during his birthday celebration. Specifically, he could recall in vivid detail attacking Loki with his mouth, and while he received similar treatment for two point five seconds, he knew it was more of a pity kiss than anything else.

He'd been pity kissed by Loki Odinson, then miserably rejected by him soon thereafter. So to some degree, Tony was almost happy to be ignored; if it meant he could pretend like the whole debacle hadn't happened at all. But in the end, both of them were painfully aware that it had; which only strained the dynamics of their relations further.

But at this point, they had no kind of relationship anyway. They cohabitated on a tour bus with very little room, and that was about the extent of it. They were hardly even friendly with one another; unless you counted inappropriate physicality as being friendly; although Tony was opposed to defining that as friendly.

What he did know for certain, was that he really fucked up. And the only person he could blame it on was himself; he was the idiot that pushed things far too much, and now he couldn't even look at his idol without feeling both ashamed and depressed.

Tony let out a tired sigh, carding his fingers through his messy and unkempt hair. He looked as bad as he felt; he needed a good shave and probably a haircut; but at least he was clean and feeling somewhat human again, even if he still wanted to vomit out his heart.

Fandral and Volstagg had left only moments beforehand, seemingly pleased by how their interviews had went. They even appeared to be far chipper than they ever had while in Tony's presence; which would have been a plus, had he really cared about them. Because in all honesty, Tony only really cared about Loki, even if that was one of the worst admissions he could make to himself when in relation with the band.

"How are you feeling, daddy-o?" Sif asked softly, while sliding into the booth opposite him.

"I feel like I'm in hell. I've never thrown up so much in my entire life." He croaked and then buried his head into his arms. "I swear to god, I will never touch another drop of alcohol for as long as I live."

Sif tousled his hair soothingly and he was reminded almost immediately about the conversation he had the previous night with Loki. Despite his better judgment, Tony found his insides tightening with sadness and that angry streak of jealousy over the mere fact that Loki couldn't love him, as he clearly loved Sif.

But what was even more frustrating was the fact, that Tony understood why Loki loved her. She radiated something special; she was overly kind and big-hearted, and might have very well kept Loki in line enough not to do something as drastic as walk away from the tour permanently.

Sure, Loki had taken off after his fight with Thor, but something brought him back; and Tony was pretty sure it wasn't just Hamish's buzzing in his ear that accomplished it either. Loki couldn't stay away from Sif, as much as Tony couldn't stay away from Loki.

"I guess you had a pretty wild time with Lo." Sif continued to run her fingers through his hair, casually massaging his scalp too, which made him almost purr.

"I guess you could say that."

"So I imagine you love me unconditionally and forever and ever now."

"If only I could say that with any authority." He blurted out and felt the fingers in his hair twitch.

If he had any strength to do so, Tony would have looked up to see the expression on Sif's face. But he really couldn't muster up the strength to do so; mostly because he was struck by a tidal wave of guilt. After all, Sif was only trying to make his birthday special by having Loki escort him around New Orleans. There was no way she could have predicted that everything would blow up in his face.

"Did something happen?" She asked cautiously but there was something lethal to her tone.

Tony forced his head up, despite the vertigo that followed. Sif's hand fell away from his hair and they stared at one another for several terse moments. She looked both concerned and partially deadly, as if she might launch off the bus and kill whoever was in her path. But her target would have definitely been Loki.

"I got drunk and made a fool out of myself. I just think that's a rite of passage at this age."

"What happened last night? And I don't want you to tell me that nothing did, because I will corner Loki myself and have a few words with him; which will only exacerbate the situation. So I think you should tell me rather than the alternative, Tony." Sif said and he knew she was serious; she was always serious when she called him by name.

"We went to a couple of bars, he bought me a few drinks, and we wandered the streets." Tony offered, pinching the bridge of his nose. "And we might have gone to a strip club, and I might have gotten my first lap dance. But you really don't want to hear about that in detail."

As was to be expected, Sif made an unladylike face by hearing that tidbit of information. But she didn't readily respond, more than likely trying to think of what to say; because really what did she expect for the two of them to do? The only other alternative was for Loki to either get him a prostitute for the evening or suck him off himself.

So really the evening had been fairly tame in comparison. Tony assumed if Fandral had been elected to take him out for a night on the town, that things would have been progressively worse. Hell, maybe even one of them would be in jail for lewd and lascivious behavior in public.

"There's more to it than that. You look terrible, Tony; and I don't think it's just because you've drank too much. Something else happened and you're not telling me." Sif leaned back in her seat, giving him a look that dissected him into itty-bitty pieces.

"You want to know what really happened. Okay, cool; fucking splendid! I'll tell you!" Tony slammed his hands against the tabletop, before he buried them in his hair. "I made a fucking fool of myself, okay! I kissed Loki and he told me straight out that he wasn't interested! Then he basically admitted that he was in love with you! But for whatever reason, you pretend like he isn't!"

Tony could only stare at her, angrier than he should have been. It wasn't her fault that Loki was in love with her, as much as it wasn't Loki's fault that Tony was in love with him. But he needed to be angry at someone, if only to mask the pain he felt; the humiliation he subjected himself to.

"Do you really believe Loki's in love with me?" Sif asked venomously. "Do you really think that?"

Once the question left her mouth, it was only then that Tony noticed she was shaking; except it wasn't the type of shaking when someone was about to burst into tears – it was the sort of shaking that happened when someone was brimming with anger. Sif was angry, maybe even incensed; her hands were shaking against the tabletop, and he momentarily feared that she might hit him if he didn't answer her question.

Of course, he was one-hundred percent certain that Loki did love her. The bastard never once said anything to contradict everyone's suspicions; and Thor himself had pointed it out during that stupid tousle that led Tony to get kicked in the kidneys. So it seemed fairly apparent to Tony what the truth really was.

"Yeah," he swallowed hard. "Yeah, he does."

"Then you are wrong!" Sif almost screamed. "Since you are so interested in Loki, let me tell you a few truths about him that most people are too kind to speak of! Loki Odinson hasn't the capability to love anyone, aside from himself!

"Everything he says and everything he does always, and I mean always, has a double meaning to it! Every word he practically speaks is a lie, and he's so convincing that most of the time you don't even know it! And by the time you realize it, he's already gotten what he wanted!"

Tony didn't know what to say; the last person he'd ever thought would be capable of speaking ill of anyone else was Sif. Sure she made quips about Natasha, since it really was only too easy. But Loki was a different matter altogether; she had seemed like one of the few allies he had, and yet this huge explosion had gone off because of Tony.

Sif laughed bitterly, before pressing her fingers to her temples. He suspected she might blurt out a few things to back up her claims, and Tony wasn't sure if he wanted to hear them. Even though he'd learned the hard way that Loki wasn't the rock god he made him out to be.

"So you say he doesn't love you, but why the hell did you think it would be okay to work your magic and get him to wine and dine me?" He forced himself to ask, realizing he was getting brutally angry too. "Maybe just to get my hopes up and then crush them,"

"I know for a fact that Loki has slept with men for one. So maybe I thought you'd be good for him; maybe he'd stop being a huge asshole, once he found someone on his level intellectually which you are!" she hissed back.

"And how the hell do you know that he's fooled around with other guys?"

"Everyone knows he has!" She screamed, mimicking his previous action of slamming her hands against the table. "Everyone knows he slept with Heimdall more than once! Why else does the tide turn in his favor, whenever he doesn't get his way! Why does Heimdall bend over backwards to please him, going against the entire band?! It's because Loki lets him have his way with him!"

"Maybe it's because I know how to speak with him properly." Someone suddenly said from the front of the tour bus, and that someone turned out to be Loki. "Maybe I haven't approached him in a way that was considerably cocky and condescending; and maybe he respected the fact that I have protected this band from being completely drained of money by record executives; albeit the same cannot be said of Thor, whom forged my signature on our first record contract, which in turn has split my earnings in half."

Sif turned around slowly, but only halfway since Loki had walked towards the table and its booths. There was an unreadable expression on his face, which instantly put Tony on edge; although he suspected from the get-go that Loki was infuriated, probably more so than both Tony and Sif combined.

"I suppose no one bothered to tell you that, Amelia; that your beloved reaps the benefits of our hard work, more so than Volstagg, Fandral, or even me for that matter. But at least those two agreed to it; whereas, I was forced into it. And just maybe, Hamish has been attempting to help me in that respect; rather than do all the unmentionable things that you and everyone else clearly think he does to me. The things that you think I allow him to do to me."

Neither Tony nor Sif said a word; they were both like naughty children, caught in the midst of causing mischief. And now they were being scolded by the schoolmarm for the trouble they had caused. It would have been a funny comparison, if it hadn't been for the fact that Loki suddenly looked almost hurt by what had been said about him.

"I never realized how lowly you thought of me." Loki uttered softly. "How dare you believe I'm only a manipulative, unhinged lunatic; how dare you ever question my love for you. If you only believe I feigned such emotions to anger Thor, then you have no right to my heart. And god forbid that I keep you in it anymore; god forbid I ache and bleed every time you kiss or embrace my brother; _my brother_ , Amelia!"

Loki shouted out the last half of his words, before abruptly chuckling in a self-deprecating way. Tony spied a glance at him, hit by guilt and a slew of other emotions that he really shouldn't have felt. He was supposed to be angry, hurt by not being able to have Loki; and yet, all he wished for was to wipe that look off of his face now. An expression that was both blank and hurt all at the same time.

There was more to Loki than he could ever really imagine. The revelation about the money issues involving the band was just one tidbit of information that explained so much about his behavior so far. It explained why he seemed like a separate entity from the band; why he clearly disliked Thor (fueled even more so than the Sif situation) too.

"As for you," Loki slowly turned to Tony. "I have been painfully kind to you, even when I was told to remain away from you. I even allowed your darling friend here to coax me into celebrating your birthday with you. And that isn't enough for you? I should have given you more?"

"I never said that at all!" Tony protested, unwilling, almost afraid even, to allow Loki to pontificate.

"I told you things could have turned out differently, could have been if you were older and a renowned reporter. But honestly, it never will be. I'll allow you to interview me one last time for your article, little Stark; but I don't want anything to do with you beside that. In fact, I do not want anything to do with either of you." Loki shook his head, brusquely turning on his heel to leave.

He disappeared before either Tony or Sif could catch their bearings; and by the time Sif bolted off the tour bus, Loki was already gone.


	22. Chapter Twenty-one :: Nashville II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has given me nothing but trouble; there are at least five different versions of it, and somehow I managed to finish it in this version. I really don't know what happened; my apologies if it's completely horrible.
> 
> And I just wanted to thank ipomoea_alba for the beautiful drawing she did. No one has ever drawn a sketch for one of my stories before; so thank you so, so much! <333

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**Chapter Twenty-one :: Nashville II**

 

 

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It shouldn't have been much of a surprise that Loki was prone to prima donna moments. Tony had witnessed a handful of them since becoming acquainted with him; but this one was unprovoked and highly inappropriate. It came completely out of left field, shocking everyone who had the misfortune of being close-by.

Everyone had been in high spirits, swapping congratulatory sentiments after the gig. Record executives, radio deejays, and music critics alike had been in the audience, and had spoken highly of the band's performance. More so of Loki though, who had gone above and beyond in his vocal capabilities; which had hypnotized and captivated the crowd, and invoked murmurs of his greatness.

Some had called his performance the best they'd ever seen; Tony had even heard one fast talking record executive whom claimed to have seen Hendrix live, declare that Loki had easily surpassed him and many of his contemporaries in every sense of the word. And Tony was privy to agree with him.

Tony had always known Loki was special; had always known he was capable of a greatness. But even he'd been taken aback by what he'd witnessed. Loki had become a legend on that stage and everyone knew it unequivocally. Everyone knew he should have been on a grander stage, without a subpar band to hold him back.

So it was that much more surprising when Loki suddenly raised his acoustic guitar, and slammed it into the awaiting asphalt with enough force to send bits and pieces of wood flying every which way. He continued to violently do so, until the neck separated from the body, and he threw it across the empty lot behind the theater.

Super manager Phil, the band, and even the roadies stopped to stare at him; watching as he stomped the intact pieces underneath his boots, until they were indiscernible bits of splinters. And just to make the moment as memorable as humanly possible, Loki belted out a scream that sounded completely and utterly unhinged.

At first, no one attempted to approach Loki; they watched him rage for several terse moments, until finally the display became too painful to watch. Phil leapt into action, rushing towards him, but drawing up short once Loki whipped around to glare at him with a crazed glint in his eyes.

"Stay away from me." Loki snarled like a caged animal.

"Loki," Phil raised his hands in submission. "Calm down; everything is all right. Everything is okay. Just tell me what's wrong."

"What's wrong? What's wrong?!" Loki yelled. "Everything's wrong, you blathering imbecile!"

Phil looked temporarily bewildered, although his cool and in-charge persona easily took over once more. He took several steps forward, keeping his hands up still; but that didn't deter Loki from backing away, looking crazier than he had only moments earlier.

"Please Loki, tell me what's wrong. I can fix the problem, whatever it may be." Phil continued. "Just let me know what's wrong."

"Aside from this bloody self-congratulatory idiocy that you wankers have going back and forth between one another?!" Loki yelled again, motioning wildly in the air.

"Brother, calm down right now." Thor boomed, striding towards Loki, before grabbing him by the scruff of the neck. "We have a right to congratulate one another! We put on a show that Nashville will not soon forget! And there were many important people in the crowd who witnessed our talents!"

"You haven't any talent, you bastard!" Loki returned, which proved to be the wrong thing to say.

Before Phil could intervene, Thor tightened his grip on Loki's neck, and doubled him over until a pained noise erupted from Loki's mouth. But that didn't deter Thor at all; he held on steadfast, directing Loki roughly towards the tour bus, despite the colorful and unintelligible rant that erupted from his mouth.

Loki attempted to grab onto any part of Thor that he could, except the angle did him very little favors. He was powerless, as he always was when it came to any physical altercation with his elder brother. Phil followed after them, trying to diffuse the situation; but it was already beyond that point. After all, Loki just had to open his big mouth and escalate the problem beyond a mere hissy fit.

"Thor let him go now!" Phil demanded to no avail.

"Not until he apologizes!" Thor forced Loki down further.

"Why should I apologize," Loki struggled wildly, but was unable to break Thor's grip. "It is the truth and you know it as much as I do!"

"I haven't any talent, is that what you said, you pathetic excuse for a human being?" Thor yelled, while managing to shove Loki onto his knees. "You would still be working in a pub, barely scraping by without me! Do you understand me?!"

Loki continued to struggle even as he was forced completely flat onto the ground by Thor's insistence. And that's when all hell broke out; although for the first few moments, things appeared to have quieted down. Loki ceased to fight, cheek pressed against the asphalt, lying there while breathing heavily as if he'd run the equivalent of a marathon.

Thor kept his grasp on his neck, but openly flinched when a series of desperate and terrified screams erupted out of Loki. The fight came back in full force; Loki flailed and squirmed, doing more harm to himself than his brother; and yet it didn't deter him at all whatsoever. He kicked and punched, screaming things that were a mixture of English and gibberish; maybe even another language altogether.

Tony's previous conversation with Sif suddenly came to the forefront of his mind. Despite his many attempts to forget that information involving Loki's past, it was now staring him right in the face. And either Thor was too stupid to realize it or slow on the uptake; whatever the reason may be, he had yet to let go of Loki who was becoming more and more erratic as the moments ticked by.

Without any thoughts against the contrary, Tony rushed towards Thor and shoved him with all his might. Maybe it was the momentum that he managed to build up while running that short distance, or maybe he'd found some inner strength he hadn't known he had; either way, Tony managed to uproot Thor and send him stumbling into Phil, who'd been gaping stupidly as the scene unfolded.

"Get off him, you fucking asshole!" Tony yelled, which only seemed to stun everyone in the immediate area again; before he crouched beside Loki who had quieted down and was breathing heavily still with visible tears in his eyes that threatened to fall at any moment.

Hushed reassurances rushed out of Tony, while he reached out to gently place his hands onto Loki's arm. Loki openly flinched but didn't pull away or even try and lash out at him; which was a vast improvement from only moments ago.

Loki managed to pull himself onto his hands and knees, and even allowed Tony to help him onto his feet once his breaths evened out and he was no longer shaking. No one attempted to intervene, probably recognizing the fact that Tony was more than effective; not to mention, Loki was clearly a powder keg ready to explode at any minute if jarred the wrong way.

"Go buy him a fucking new guitar." Tony shot out at Phil, who appeared to be torn between scolding Thor, or maybe even attempting to embrace Loki like a lovelorn fool. "Take them for steak or whatever the hell it was that you wanted to do. But stay the fuck away for the next couple of hours, do you understand me?"

"I swear Stark if this comes out in your article," Phil muttered, only to draw up short when Tony shot him a lethal look; the kind he reserved for both his parents, in varying degrees of loathing.

"I'm a human being, you fucker!" He shot back, wrapping a protective arm around Loki's waist. "I'm not some bloodthirsty monster, who wants to destroy this band!"

Rather than wait for a response, more than likely a feeble one on top of that, Tony steered Loki towards the tour bus and helped him mount the steps; which was infinitely easier now that Loki was compliant and currently not his pigheaded self. Then again, that could always change in a split-second once he gathered his bearings again.

But for the time being, he didn't have any trouble leading Loki inside the bus. He did, however, feel him tremble as if he might become completely unglued again; which would have been understandable. Tony wasn't in any position to judge him, and he doubted anyone would if they knew the extent of what had happened. After all, Loki could take a punch and a kick from Thor and never shed a tear; it was just when he was held down that things got messy.

Slowly they walked toward the back of the bus, only coming to a stop once they were beside Loki's bunk-bed. But neither of them tried to disentangle themselves from the other; Tony squeezed his arm around Loki's waist, waiting to see if that would prompt any response from him.

"Toilet," Loki uttered gruffly, before he slid away and stepped into the closet-sized lavatory.

The door closed quietly behind him and left Tony to the tangle of thoughts he didn't necessarily want to go through. He'd already been on an emotional rollercoaster for the past few weeks, which was only intensified by the day before in New Orleans and that afternoon when Loki blacklisted him and Sif. And now he was dealing with an emotionally unstable Loki, who was probably reliving some insidious shit from his childhood in the bathroom right now.

He was exhausted, emotionally drained even; which prompted him to crumble to the aisle and sit there until he knew for certain that Loki wasn't about to drown himself in the sink. Albeit, he didn't find any humor in that thought; not when he realized how emotionally unstable Loki really was.

And that made Tony feel guilty; guilty that he expected so much from someone who was emotionally compromised so entirely that he couldn't even function normally while around other human beings. Loki threw hissy fits and punches, provoked and manipulated because the bastard didn't know how to function at all. He was a mess and Tony had expected the world from him.

Slowly the door opened again, and Tony scrambled to his feet. Loki had splashed water across his face and undone most of the buttons of his white oxford that was dirtied by the asphalt, giving him a strangely ethereal look. His hair was messy and unkempt, as if he'd been running his fingers through it compulsively; which Tony hated to admit was breathtaking in so many inappropriate ways.

There was an angry red mark on the cheek Loki had been forced onto, although the skin hadn't broken and luckily it didn't add onto his already beaten-up appearance. But he did look vulnerable and Tony found himself trying to control the heat in the pit of his stomach; which was only made worse once Loki approached him.

"We never have to talk about this again, you know." Tony said; only to take in a sharp breath once Loki reached out and ran his fingers along the outline of his collarbone.

Those talented fingers lingered briefly, before they trailed downward, tracing the Led Zeppelin logo on his tee-shirt, and eventually across one his nipples, which hardened almost immediately. Tony gasped in spite of himself; the noise only increased in volume as Loki began to lower himself to the aisle and onto his knees in front of him.

Tony felt his heartbeat increase a tenfold and any sane thought that he might have had all but dissipated. He knew he should have said something, anything but all he could do was stare down at Loki who'd ran both his hands down his sides and cupped his waist that looked so small in his grasp.

Loki brushed his thumbs across the thin material of his tee-shirt, and causing his skin to break into goose bumps. His body was on fire, searing hot; and he felt his control unravel as his idol, his mentally unstable one at that, shifted closer to him until he could feel his breath against his stomach.

Another gasp escaped him, as he caught Loki's eyes that were half-lidded and dark with his own. Something was off about him, as it had been since he'd gotten off the stage. Even though he was vilified as more than just a run of the mill singer, had even been declared legendary by record executives who would know better than anyone else, Loki had reacted oddly towards it.

And now, now he was pressing his open mouth against Tony's stomach, through the thin fabric, and wetting it with his tongue. Tony grabbed onto Loki's hands that were still on his waist, unsure if he was trying to push him away or keep him cemented in place.

His breath hitched in his throat, hit by an irreversible ache in his loins; which only became that much more apparent once Loki lowered his head and nuzzled his rapidly growing erection through the denim of his jeans. And then Loki's hands were shaking off his, reaching backwards and grasping his ass hard, forcing him forward into Loki's mouth.

Loki wetly nipped and sucked on Tony's erection; and even though it was still covered by his jeans, he writhed and moaned unashamedly by the feeling. His hands shot out and held onto Loki's shoulders, unable to stop himself from rocking his hips against that willing mouth, which was doing things to him that no one had ever done to him before.

The hold on his ass grew tighter, almost painful; but it was superseded by the many things Loki's tongue was doing to him now. Tony threw his head back; almost striking one of the wooden panels that made up the row of bunk-beds, and bit back a sound that he imagined would be really embarrassing to let out.

Just as Loki bit down gently on the side his hard-on, something drew them back into reality. Someone was clambering onto the bus, loudly at that. They both froze, entangled with one another still; Loki's mouth hadn't moved a fraction from his groin either, except when someone called out his name in a way that was both timid and strong.

"Loki, are you okay?" Sif called out, leading Loki to abruptly stand and practically shove Tony behind him; probably since he was sporting the most prominent erection in the history of mankind.

Tony staggered, coming close to falling to the aisle; before he righted himself and stared at how rigid Loki had gone. He stood perfectly still, as if a soldier at attention; but he whipped around, eyes wide, confused, and strangely fierce.

"Go into the lavatory! Don't come out until you fixed _that_!" He hissed, motioning at Tony's groin. "I'll handle her!"

Sif called out again, but this time her footsteps were drawing nearer. And that was all the motivation Tony needed; he hurried towards the lavatory door, and quickly clambered into the room. He shut the door just as he heard Sif address Loki face to face, and held his breath for several moments as if somehow that would decrease anyone from finding out about what had just transpired.

Then again Tony didn't even really know what had just happened. In fact, he feared that he might have very well been taking advantage of Loki. Since he was, after all, completely and utterly unbalanced; Loki might actually be the most damaged person Tony had ever met. And that was saying a lot, because Tony was almost as fucked up too.


	23. Chapter Twenty-two :: St. Louis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Compared to the last chapter, this one came out much quicker and easier too. So I really hope you enjoy it!

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**Chapter Twenty-two :: St. Louis**

 

 

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It was a pattern that Tony recognized now. It hardly surprised him that Loki completely disregarded their ill-fated encounter days after the fact. And he too pretended like it never even happened; because really what good could have come from it?

Tony managed to shut off his emotions, having grown accustom to the emotional wear and tear that he'd inevitably be subjected to; and that made him at least far more productive than he had been. He'd written out a good portion of his article in long-hand, called Hogun with an update, and even had a decent conversation with Obie who made sure to call his mother every name in the book, once he told him about the botched birthday call.

But more importantly than even that, he made himself scarce whenever Loki was around. Maybe it was a little vindictive and mean-spirited, very Loki-like even, but it also kept his feelings at bay. And he suspected Loki was none the wiser to his attempts at avoiding him, especially if his goal was to avoid him as well.

So they cohabitated, ignored one another, and pretended like nothing physical had happened between them. Which worked for four days after the incident; only Sif appeared to notice the change, and appeared to be dying to ask what had transpired; after all, she had been the one to interrupt them, and had been on the bus still once Tony emerged from the lavatory, red-faced and visibly winded.

"Want to explore the city, Tony?" Sif asked, breaking his reverie from his long-hand. "I've only been to St. Louis once; but I can't remember it very well. I was only six and I'm pretty sure I cried through most of the trip. I was a huge crybaby back then."

"I'm kind of in the middle of something right now." He replied, writing another sentence describing the atmosphere of the Nashville show; the show, which Tony suspected would be the one he wrote about in inane detail.

"Are you writing about Nashville?" She inquired after several moments.

"Well, that set was kind of a big deal. Unless you've seen them play a set like that before, which I guess is totally possible."

"No, nothing like that; that was something I can't even put into words."

"So everyone got a big surprise then." Tony raised his head, only to find that Sif looked uncomfortable and almost on the verge of being antsy.

The last thing he needed was to take on anyone else's problems. He'd only found the remedy for his own, which was the old Stark family secret. But apparently his ability to wield it had been completely compromised by being in the presence of the craziest, sexiest even, Englishman that Britain had ever bred.

Then again, there was more than a fair share of crazy Englishmen in rock bands nowadays. Tony just hadn't had the privilege to meet them all yet; but if they were in any way like Loki, it was probably better that he avoided them at all costs.

"What's wrong with you?" He asked, once he decided that watching her squirm wasn't very fun anymore. "Did you get in a fight with Thor? Or maybe you got into it with everyone's favorite person."

"I just need some air." She said, looking over her shoulder as if either Thor or Loki was waiting to pounce from the shadows; which was actually a very terrifying thought. "And you're my favorite person to hang with."

Tony was pretty sure that he was only her favorite person, because he wasn't attached to the weird courtship that hovered around her the majority of the time. He wasn't furiously fighting over her or even losing his shit whenever something as inconsequential as a pin dropped occurred. And he supposed he could sympathize with her; because if he was that emotionally drained by the proceedings, Sif should have probably been dead from stress already.

"Maybe for an hour or two," he sighed, closing his notepad. "But I need to get my first draft done soon; I'd like to have this sent back to my boss, once the tour has ended. You know, just in case the Stone wants to send over one of their photographers, before you guys jet off."

"That's cool, I'm good with that!" Sif looked relieved, before motioning for him to follow her off the bus. "Let's go find some place to eat!"

Reluctant as he was, Tony forced himself up and stuffed his things into his shoulder bag, and followed her into the afternoon heat. The band had already gone off for their sound check about an hour earlier; but who knew when they'd show up again. And Tony found that he didn't necessarily want to hang with them, when he wasn't forced to by the circumstances of the road.

Sif led the way, as she was prone to do, into a busy district lined with restaurants and businesses of all sorts. Tony sidled up beside her, stuffing his hands into his pockets, and letting out another sigh that had been on his lips since he followed her outside.

"There's only six more tour dates, you know." Sif began conversationally, but Tony suspected that it was only going to build onto something more. "And there are some major cities left; Chicago tomorrow and New York City in two and a half weeks."

"Why does it feel like we've been on this tour for an eternity?"

"Because it has been one; just imagine how the band feels. They've been on tour almost every day for a year and a half. Nonstop touring, always in close proximity; it's no wonder Thor and Loki are about to kill one another."

Tony almost paused, but forced himself to keep up with her. They were coming up to a McDonalds and Tony was almost relieved that they wouldn't have to eat at another diner or some local restaurant this time around. Familiarity was something he'd been lacking over the past few weeks, and that was something he was really beginning to crave for nowadays.

"Mind if I be honest with you there, Siffy?" He asked, deciding it would be better just to be completely honest, instead of beating around the bush like he had been doing for so long.

"I get the feeling I'm not going to like this."

"No one likes the truth. If that were the case, we'd all be harmonious fucking human beings."

"Lay it on me then." She drew up short, not even crossing into the McDonalds' parking lot; but Tony could smell the burgers and fries, and he momentarily regretted not bringing this up while securely in the restaurant.

"Anyone with a pair of eyes can see Thor is green with envy over Loki." He shot out, deciding the restaurant's windows were by far more interesting to look at than her. "It burns his ass day in and day out to know that his band isn't his anymore. Little brother came in on a whim, and took over the place because he just happened to be more talented. And before you go off on me, we both know that's the case. You saw how those music types were practically salivating when they saw Loki sing."

Sif didn't respond immediately, instead she shot him a weary look that seemed to convey that she heard this many times before. Hell, Tony wouldn't have been surprised if she had; if she had known Thor for four years, the probability that she heard him rant and rave about something similarly were fairly high.

"We'll talk about this once we get our food." She offered finally, leading him towards the restaurant and inside where there was already a decent amount of people dining.

They didn't discuss the matter further, as they got into line and ordered their food. It was only when they'd found a booth and were halfway through their meal, that Sif pinned him with a steely look and Tony knew that they were about to get back into it.

He almost regretted bringing it up in the first place; mostly because he was actually beginning to feel comfortable and was almost enjoying himself. But he knew that they would have to discuss it at one point; two and a half weeks on the road was actually way longer than it seemed. It felt like triple the time and well, he rather get everything out of the way sooner than later.

"I know Loki is the reason why the band is successful." Sif began, while absentmindedly smothering a fry in some ketchup. "Thor is a great guitarist, decent singer too. But those are a dime a dozen, even if I hate to admit it."

"You know this can't hold up for very much longer. They can't possibly hold up anymore." Tony murmured, looking away, and spotting someone that briefly derailed his mind.

Tony was frequently losing his train of thought, sometimes even stopping in mid-sentence, once he saw a girl that met his fancy. James had given him shit about it all the time; and rather than feel embarrassed by the annoyed look Sif shot him, since she probably was in the midst of saying something in return, he simply kept staring at the girl standing at the cash register.

She had long blonde hair, curled and coiffed perfectly; with a set of green eyes that could have easily surpassed Loki's even. She was wearing a pair of black go-go boots, combined with a matching pair of hot pants and an Odin's Sons tee-shirt; the same one that Tony had worn to rags. And if that wasn't a sign from whichever deity existed, Tony didn't know what would be.

"I'll be right back." He exclaimed before he even realized what he was doing, and climbed out of the booth before Sif could protest.

Conjuring up his trademark Stark charm, Tony approached the counter just as the cashier tallied up the cost for the girl's food; which he used to his advantage. He slapped down a bill that would cover the expense and offered his widest smile that he could.

The girl looked taken aback, but soon she relaxed and smiled back at him; hook line and sinker. If there was anything Tony had learned from his old man was that a smile, a thousand watt one at that, was basically a go-ahead to try and sweep a girl off her feet.

"I couldn't help but notice you're wearing an Odin's Sons' tee-shirt." He began, taking his change from the cashier when it was offered to him.

"They're my favorite band; I'm going to see them tonight." She explained, all the while batting her eyelashes.

"They're my favorite band too; what a coincidence." He leaned in, offering his hand. "Tony Stark."

"Alice Bixley, but my friends call me Amora." She took his hand and shook it.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Amora. Well, if you don't mind me calling you that, that is."

"Of course not," She smiled wider, dropping his hand. "Actually I'm glad to meet someone else who's a fan. I'm a bit out of my element; this is my first time in the city alone."

"You don't say; well, why don't I keep you company?" He grinned wider, which really did the trick.

"I'd appreciate that. I was going to see the show with my friends, but they weren't able to come down from Illinois. I'll be meeting them for the Chicago show though." She explained, before collecting the bag that the cashier eventually passed her way. "I was actually just picking up some food, before I go back on line. Someone was kind enough to hold my spot."

Tony looked over his shoulder, catching sight of Sif who looked exasperated and annoyed. He knew he was diving head-first into something that would only earn her ire; but he was finally hitting his breaking point. In between the drama addled band, and Loki's constant mood swings and manipulation, he was done.

And it would be nice to spend some time with someone who was separate from all of it. He mouthed an apology her way, before he turned his attention back onto Amora; who really was his type, unlike that crazy bastard Loki.

"Do you mind if I walk you back then?" He offered, treading lightly just in case he might be coming off too strongly.

"I'd like that, thank you." Amora batted her eyelashes again, long and alluring, and just how he liked them.

Looking back at Sif, Tony mouthed another apology but knew he wasn't about to be forgiven anytime soon. Not by the way she looked at him; and he'd seen that look enough shot at dear 'ol Howard to know there would be hell to pay later. But he found that didn't even care anymore; he really couldn't physically or mentally care anymore.

It was nice not to care anymore too. He felt lighter and almost human again; he felt like Anthony Edward Stark again, and it was about damned time that he did. And for once, since he'd gotten swept up onto the band's tour, he was feeling chipper, excited, and anticipated a great day with a beautiful girl. And Loki Odinson be damned.


	24. Chapter Twenty-three :: St. Louis II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't help myself; you guys are the best, so I wanted to give you another chapter. :)

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**Chapter Twenty-three :: St. Louis II**

 

 

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Maybe there was something in the water, because Loki hit another home-run in St. Louis. He put on a performance that bands only achieved once or twice in their careers; and yet the bastard had given another legendary performance that had the crowd going crazy.

Tony had witnessed it while side-by-side with Amora, whom wailed like every female in the audience had as Loki howled into the microphone, swayed his hips in an over sexualized manner, and crumbled to the ground dramatically while singing _Sigyn's Lullaby._

But it had taken all his willpower not to rush the stage, once Loki reappeared for his solo with his new acoustic guitar spread across his thighs, and sang the Beatle's _Let It Be_. It was in those brief moments that Tony remembered why he'd fallen in love with Loki in the first place. That voice blew him away time and time again; more so, when every bit of Loki was thrown behind his performance, and he was exposed, uninhibited, and raw.

Nothing was holding him back anymore, which was both exhilarating and terrifying to witness. Tony didn't know why Loki had bared himself so entirely, and he was honestly too scared to know the answer. Because then he would be exposed to the many demons that haunted his mind; and some things were just too personal to divulge into.

Luckily the show ended with Tony remaining levelheaded; he didn't allow his emotions to get the best of him, in fact he kept them under lock and key. And to top it off, he had gotten the opportunity to walk Amora to the bus station; which led to some very intense kissing and a bit of light petting, which did wonders for his mood overall.

They had even made plans to meet up at the Chicago show; albeit Tony had treaded lightly, choosing to keep his involvement with the band quiet. After all, that could have very well changed their friendship; Amora might lose interest in him right away, if she knew he had a free pass to Loki. And well, he preferred to be the desirable one for once.

He was in high spirits, when he came back to the tour bus. Fans were still buzzing about, waiting for any sign of the band; although the only discernible face amid the crowd was Gary, the bus driver, and Phil whom were carrying cartons of food onto the bus, followed by one of the burlier roadies carrying Loki's dainty porcelain teapot.

That sight put him in an even better mood, which followed him as he passed slyly through the crowd and weaseled his way onto the bus without drawing too much attention from the other fans. Phil, Gary, and the roadie, who he vaguely recalled being named Allan, were depositing their offerings onto the table in front of Fandral, who quickly took up the teapot and started to make a cup either for himself or for Loki, Tony couldn't be sure.

"Hello, love. Have a fine time with that beautiful blonde?" Fandral greeted him with a wink, continuing to make his cup of tea.

"I didn't know you were that observant." Tony returned; ignoring the sharp look Phil shot his way; then again, they weren't exactly on speaking terms after the incident in Nashville.

"I always keep my eyes open. Best way to know if a bloke is fucking you over." Fandral grinned and motioned towards the booth across from him.

Rather than pass up the offer, Tony slid into the booth, making it a point to disregard Phil who was still giving him the evil eye. He was in too good of a mood to let it get to him anyway; and quite frankly, he had to be the one to take charge in Nashville, since no one else would. Everyone had stood around waiting for Loki to either faint from over exertion, or for Thor to accidentally kill him.

"So you think I'm going to fuck you over?" Tony asked, once Fandral set the teacup aside.

"Not necessarily, but it's better to be cautious, don't you think?"

"Well, what would I gain from fucking you over?"

"You wouldn't dare do that to me, mate." Fandral smiled wickedly. "I'm not that interesting; but we do have to look after our own."

The implication was pretty clear; Tony would have had to been stupid to miss it. Not to mention, Phil looked strangely pleased with the comment; even though Tony had made it brutally clear that he didn't have any interest in mudslinging, no less harming Loki in any way.

He rested both arms onto the tabletop, choosing not to respond. After all, he was having an excellent day and he wasn't about to take the bait. That would only be asking for trouble, and he was smart enough to avoid it now.

"Fair enough," he offered after a few moments, and was rewarded with a carton of food courtesy of Gary.

"I'll get Volstagg, Thor, and Amelia." Phil piped in; wiping his hands on a napkin after something seeped out of one of the containers. "Fandral, call for Loki."

"Aye, aye Captain," Fandral saluted as Phil headed towards the front of the bus, alongside Gary and Allan, before he yelled at the top of his lungs. "Loki, you bloody wanker, come and get your tea! Your meddlesome mother also wants you to eat something!"

Tony slapped both his hands over his ears, but still heard Phil call out from outside that wasn't what he intended for Fandral to do. Fandral only grinned sheepishly at Tony, before he popped open one of the containers that was filled with some kind of Italian food.

The same kind of concoction was found in Tony's container too; it smelled good enough, and it seemed to pass the test by the slurping noises that Fandral was now making, after he took up a fork. Tony followed suit, taking a hearty bite from the lasagna drenched in tomato sauce and cheese alike, and found that he was starving. He hadn't finished his lunch after all, since he'd gotten derailed by Amora; which probably only made the lasagna that much more delectable.

They ate in silence, Fandral only pausing to pull a flask from his hip and take a swig. Tony politely waved off the offer for a drink, instead settling on a can of cola that had been stockpiled in the kitchenette and was lukewarm at best.

Midway through their meal, Loki emerged from the back of the bus, unsurprisingly only wearing his boots and those god forsaken jeans of his. They were unzipped fully and his belt buckle was unclasped, as if he was in the middle of getting undressed and decided halfway through that he better get something to eat instead.

"Do you ever feel compelled to zip up your trousers?" Fandral blurted out, jutting his fork towards Loki, who took up the teacup and saucer, and took an experimental sip from it.

"It shouldn't bother you." Loki licked the rim of the teacup, before raising his eyebrow. "Unless I've been inadvertently tempting you,"

"Bloody hell, not in front of the child; your cock's practically in our faces! Have some consideration for the lad!" Fandral adopted a high-pitched voice, as if he was mimicking a woman they both knew.

"Then put it in your mouth, and he won't have to see it." Loki returned quickly, before eyeing the food they'd been eating. "That looks god awful."

"How easy you can tell me to suck your cock, and then judge my food." Fandral scoffed, stabbing a piece of lasagna on the fork's tongs, and lifting it up to Loki's face. "Now open wide and have a bite. I doubt you've eaten in some time; you're bony as all hell."

Loki backed away with his teacup and saucer in hand, only to lean on the kitchenette's counter as he crossed his legs at the ankle, acting as if this was perfectly normal. Tony felt suddenly very uncomfortable, but he knew better than to show it. If he'd gotten up at that moment, Fandral would probably blurt out something inappropriate and make Loki aware of his ploy of avoiding him.

However, Loki hadn't even acknowledged him either. It was like he was ghost and in a way, Tony suspected Loki was toying with him on top of that. Regardless of the fact that Fandral brought up Loki's inappropriate attire, Loki had been quick to tell him to suck him off; which in a way came back full circle to what had happened four days earlier.

Or maybe Tony was just thinking far too much into it. It wouldn't have been the first time that his mind had been poised to dissect and breakdown every small action and detail that he'd been exposed to during certain encounters.

"Come over here and eat." Fandral lifted one of the containers. "It's not real Italian food, but the American interpretation isn't that bad."

"I'm not hungry, I want a cigarette." Loki muttered, taking a sip from his teacup.

"Do you see this bloke, do you?" Fandral turned to look at Tony, jabbing the air with his fork. "I bet you haven't seen him eat a single thing in weeks. Because I certainly haven't and I bet the whole bloody band hasn't. It's a miracle he hasn't up and died yet; I bet we'll find him in his bed, stone cold soon enough."

Now that Fandral mentioned it, Tony hadn't seen Loki eat a single thing since he'd met him. Every time they did go anywhere that served food, Loki would only drink water; the diner, the many bars they had visited – nothing.

Tony spied a look at Loki, who looked anything but emaciated. In fact, he looked glorious; which really wasn't something that he should be noticing, when he was trying to avoid him like the plague. Not to mention, he was having a bit of a romance going on just so he could skirt around his feelings towards Loki, which were completely toxic.

"Over dramatic," Loki rolled his eyes.

"I'm over dramatic?" Fandral asked, only to laugh loudly thereafter. "Now that is the pot calling the kettle black."

Loki didn't bother to respond to that, instead he drained his teacup and placed it cautiously onto the kitchenette's counter. He then patted his pockets front to back, before extracting a yellow bic lighter from his pocket and a stray cigarette that he must have shoved in there for extra precautions.

Tony couldn't help but watch as Loki lit his cigarette, finding it strangely erotic even though he was supposed to be ignoring him. And he was really beginning to hate him, more so than he already had, because it was almost impossible not to stare at him and want him, mind and body.

Thankfully, his attention was pulled away by the rambunctious noise coming from the front of the tour bus. Volstagg appeared, carrying his own container of food with a beer bottle balanced on the top of it; he was in the midst of telling a tale to Thor who was howling with laughter at the right points, and slapping Volstagg on the back for good measures.

Sif followed after them, smiling widely but froze in place once she saw Tony. Suddenly, Tony realized he had far greater problems than watching Loki smoke and who openly sneered at Thor and received the bird in retaliation for it.

"Well, well it's fancy seeing you here." Sif said sweetly, although Tony knew better. "I thought you'd be off making new friends."

"I apologized, more than once actually."

"Mouthing an apology isn't an apology." She glowered, before turning to Loki. "And you, why are you not wearing any clothes?"

"When did a set of trousers cease to be clothing?" Loki raised both his eyebrows, while blowing out a cloud of smoke.

"Once we can see the outline of your cock, you ruddy bastard!" Fandral yelled. "If I wanted to see it, I'd want to without an audience, thank you very much!"

Sif made a noise that was both scandalized and annoyed; she shot a disapproving look at Fandral, whom only grinned cheekily at her in return. But the commentary on Loki's jeans was enough to scare him away. He muttered out something insulting, no doubt, towards Fandral before he forced his way past Thor and Volstagg whom were pointedly ignoring the previous conversation.

Tony had to hand it to them, now that he thought about it. Despite constantly fighting both verbally and physically, somehow the entire band managed to get along in the end. Loki didn't try and attack Thor or vice-versa. And it seemed that Loki had all but forgiven Sif for the comments she made about him and Heimdall.

The only person that wasn't given that sort of consideration was Tony; which proved more than ever that he was just a visitor in their strange, strange world. He was an outsider looking in, and he realized to a degree that maybe he preferred it that way. Maybe even they were just too fucked up for him to want to be aligned with them.

He picked at the last of his lasagna, listening half-heartedly to Sif and Fandral going back and forth about couth. Thor and Volstagg had slid towards the kitchenette, consumed with their own conversation, while raiding the cabinetry for the lukewarm beer that they kept there at all times.

For whatever reason Tony felt compelled to look up, and was surprised to see Loki leaning against the wooden frame of the first few bunk-beds; his cigarette was poised between his index and middle finger and his other hand was entangled in his hair. Tony was instantly breathless; he had been on a multiple occasions when it came to Loki, but this time was completely different.

Loki was staring at him intensely; he didn't even waver once he'd been caught either. Tony felt the weight, the heat of his gaze, and felt exposed and feared that someone would notice the peculiar exchange very soon. But it ended eventually, unfortunately even. Loki smiled at him, he didn't smirk or slap on a charming grin; he actually smiled softly at him, before he walked away and left Tony utterly confused.


	25. Chapter Twenty-four :: Chicago

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a bit shorter than the other ones, sorry guys. But I found that there wasn't much to write as of yet. I'll try to make the next chapter longer to make up for it though.
> 
> And just to let you know, there will be a sequel to this story. It'll be called (unless I decide against it): The Rise of Loki Laufeyson.

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**Chapter Twenty-four :: Chicago**

 

 

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Standing on line really didn't have much of an appeal to Tony; but standing on line with a beautiful blonde, whom found him witty and funny and charming all but made up for it. Chicago was a bit milder, weather wise, than the previous cities had been, and made his time spent with Amora that much more enjoyable.

They spent much of their time getting acquainted with one another properly. He found out she was from a small town in Missouri, although the name eluded him, and that she was sixteen years old. Both of them shared a passion for music, to the point that their favorite Odin's Sons' songs even coincided with one another's. And they both had an appreciation for Rolling Stone magazine, both treating it as if it were the modern day Bible.

But what was even more rewarding, when the day became unbearably dull and long, was that they spent a good portion of it lip-locked. They kissed for what felt like hours, until their lips were swollen and raw, and all Tony could think of was skipping the gig to take Amora somewhere for further intimacy.

His body was revved up and every lucid thought that he might have had took a backseat to that. It was only by the grace of god, or whatever deity that existed, that he managed to keep his baser instincts at bay and deal with the tedious last hour or two on line, and the eventual admission into the theater.

The Chicago crowd was one of the largest to date; it was made up of an eclectic group of individuals that filled the oversized room, ranging from the beefy, high school and university athletes, to the Led Zeppelin listening stoners, to the hippies and flower children respectively. Everyone melded harmoniously together, already in the midst of passing open containers of beer and stray joints from person to person.

Tony directed Amora towards Fandral's side of the stage, right on the railing. It was far enough away from Thor to go unnoticed and fair distance away from Loki too. But the center of the stage had already been filled to its capacity with fashionable, groupie types who were already swooning and batting their fake eyelashes in anticipation for Loki's appearance.

Once the room was filled to its capacity, the lights dimmed, and the same avant-garde band, whose name Tony still didn't know, waltzed onto the stage. And as abysmal as their previous performances had been, this one was on the same wavelength. Tony barely paid them any attention, focusing instead on Amora's neck instead; he nipped at it playfully every few seconds, until she pressed the lower half of her body against his and ceased his previous ministrations.

Having been sexually frustrated for the better half of almost two months, was starting to work against him more and more. To the point where he was inappropriately grabbing at Amora, and overlooked the opening band's entire set; which, technically was probably for the best anyway than trying to enjoy it for the umpteenth time and failing just as many times.

Tony was completely consumed with ravaging Amora that he hardly noticed that the roadies had stormed the stage and were in the process of setting up for Odin's Sons. Hell, once he met her lips in a needy and feverish kiss, he had all but forgotten where he even was and why he was there in the first place.

His tongue was entwined with Amora's as the lights lowered for the second time that evening, and it was only when the echo of Thor's guitar, loud and unwavering, cut through the room that Tony pulled away from her. And it was just in time too, because the lights flickered on one by one to reveal the band that suddenly broke out into a full-fledged song.

Despite being in front of Fandral, Tony's attention immediately went to Loki. Loki was already singing at his best, belting out the lyrics he'd written as if it were the last time he'd ever sing them again. That newly established legendary status, shone brightly; even though it shouldn't have been possible that Loki could perform three over the top shows, let alone the first two, as easily as he was currently doing.

The crowd shifted between heightened bursts of energy to gaping in reverie, depending on Loki's performance. When he lost himself in the music, jerking the microphone stand against his chest, and throwing his head back, the crowd roared and danced along with him. But when he settled down, bringing the microphone to his lips and crooned out the song, the crowd immediately went still in awe.

Tony was spellbound, even during the times Amora ground back into him, his attention remained on the stage. And Loki was certainly a sight to behold; he had dressed himself up far more formally than he had for the previous shows, wearing a black suede jacket with matching bell-bottoms, and a white oxford, partially opened underneath. He looked devilishly attractive, if it was any indication by the sudden collapse of two or three girls nearby. That was first, but it probably wouldn't be the last either.

The room darkened after a good portion of the set had already been played, which meant that Loki was about to accompany Thor as he sang. Amora turned towards him, pressing her side into the front of his body, before snaking an arm around his neck and pulling him down to her level.

"As much as I'm enjoying this, I rather spend some alone time with you." She purred into his ear, which broke the spell that Loki had unwittingly cast with his performance. "So why don't we split and get to know one another _intimately_ ,"

For a split-second, Tony found himself torn by his options. He could either leave the show, find someplace comfy to act out his sexual frustrations, or he could stay and watch Loki and fuck up his head more than it already was.

Maybe if he'd been twenty-five instead of seventeen, he would have decided that staying for the rest of the show was a wiser decision. But he was a sexually frustrated teenager and having the object of his affections, and frequent hatred, dangled in front of his face for a prolonged period of time was quickly losing its appeal; even if Loki was putting on legendary sets nowadays.

"I know a place, follow me." Tony grabbed her hand, before traversing the hushed crowd.

He forced his way towards the edge of the stage, where he'd glimpsed on the exit and more than a few roadies who'd been mulling around before the show had gotten underway. It took several minutes before he found where he wanted to be, waving his free hand wildly until one of the unoccupied roadies noticed him.

The roadie, a tall and unassuming guy, sauntered over to the railing, leaning inward for they could have a conversation before the crowd went wild again once the band returned. Tony wanted to get out of the building, or in the very least out of the crowd, before that could happen.

"What's up?" The roadie asked in a no-nonsense New York accent.

"Just need help getting out of the crowd and out back," Tony explained.

"Sure thing, buddy," the roadie said without any suspicions, before he grabbed onto Tony's arm, and pulled him over the railing with little to no effort whatsoever; he then helped Tony hoist Amora over the railing as well.

Once both of them were securely on the other side of the railing, the lights flickered back to life and illuminated the room again. Cries of excitement erupted from the crowd, before Thor's distinctive voice roared into life, singing one of the band's older songs; one of the more subpar ones, if Tony were to be honest.

"Thanks, man." Tony told the roadie, as he grabbed onto Amora's hand again, and rushed towards the exit.

Several more roadies were standing outside the door, smoking and shooting the shit. They spared him nothing more than an inquisitive look and a few curt greetings, before disregarding him just as quickly; which was perfectly fine because he was on a mission and that was to get on the tour bus, before anyone could catch him in the act.

Amora didn't ask any questions immediately, seemingly in as much of a hurry as he was. They crossed the lot at record speed, before they came to a halt beside the tour bus. Tony swallowed hard, both from anticipation of what was to come physically, but also because he was about to come clean about his relation to the band.

"I've been kind of holding off on telling you this." He began, squeezing her hand. "I've been touring with the band since their first show in L. A.; I'm writing a piece on them for Rolling Stone magazine."

"You write for Rolling Stone magazine?" She asked, visibly surprised by the revelation.

"I'm only a part-timer, but yes I do. And this is my biggest assignment to date; I didn't tell you because I figured, well, you might not want to hang out with me. If you catch my drift,"

"I catch your drift, but you are so wrong. I like you, Tony; so let me show you just how much I like you." Amora suddenly broke out into a beautiful smile, while coupled with such appealing words, made Tony more than a little bit irrational.

He yanked open the tour bus's door, before he pulled her on board. As to be expected, it was deserted; Sif was, undoubtedly, in the back of the theater watching the rest of the performance. And Phil was always lingering in the background somewhere; and god only knew where Gary went when he wasn't driving them around.

Either way, it worked in his favor. He cracked a smile at the way Amora looked from one corner of the bus to the next. He had a similar reaction, if he remembered correctly, when he'd been invited onto the bus; although it seemed like so long ago.

They continued through the bus at a leisurely pace, until Tony came to his bunk-bed. He slid the curtains open with one hand, glad that he had the foresight to actually make the bed rather than leave it like a rat's nest like everyone else did with their own. Then again, it was hard to catch a glimpse of Loki's bed when he wasn't already in it; so god only knew what it looked like when he wasn't in it. And despite how appealing the idea was to check in on it now, he had more pressing matters to deal with.

"Nice digs." Amora smiled and slowly slid onto the length of his bunk-bed.

"They just got a hell of a lot better." Tony managed to say, while looking her over head to toe.

Amora rolled onto her back, before beckoning him to join her on the bed; which he readily did, even though there was barely any room to accommodate two people. But somehow Thor and Sif made it work, and from what he observed they did share one bunk-bed unless they were fighting over something stupid.

Tony positioned himself above her, feeling the heady heat of arousal in the pit of his stomach. He bit his lip, studying her face and was blown away by how lucky he'd gotten. He had had beautiful girls before, but Amora definitely took the cake in that respect.

Her lips were stained red and pouty, and they were a pleasure to kiss. But what really drew him was the color of her eyes; they were a brilliant, almost effervescent, color of green that contrasted with her mascara darkened eyelashes. They reminded him so much of Loki's that it almost took his breath away. And yet, he was struck by the abrupt realization that that was the last thing he should be thinking of now.

Loki was the last person on planet earth, he should have thought of while straddling a beautiful girl. In fact, Tony almost felt the stir of nausea from even imagining it; because it wasn't like it was every day that he had gotten a chance to have sex with a girl like Amora, and he'd be damned if he blew it over Loki.

"Do you have, you know?" Amora suddenly asked, raising her hands and making an indiscernible gesture with them.

Tony leveled her with a confused look, only to get it several moments later. He nodded vigorously, before reaching backwards with one hand to pull the condom out of his back pocket. He'd stolen it from Fandral's stash, which really wasn't much of a hidden stash anyway; but a convenient pile thrown beside the bathroom sink. Although Tony was beginning to suspect it was a communal offering.

"I got it covered." He replied, relieved when she reached up and grasped his face between her hands.

"Don't make me beg then." She returned in a voice that was heavy with want, which in turn made Tony that much more desperate to explore every part of her body as quickly as he could.

Lowering his body over hers, Tony kissed her hard and with a passion that he really hadn't done towards anyone else before. Well, anyone else besides a raven-haired, green-eyed psychopath; one that had smiled at him genuinely and softly only the night before. And the same one, unfortunately, he was envisioning while divulging further into the kiss full-steam ahead.


	26. Chapter Twenty-five :: Chicago II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter ran away on me (but what's new?); I don't know what Loki's doing most of the time. So I'm sorry in advanced; this is probably god awful.
> 
> For no apparent reason I listened to the Door's "The End" and Nancy Sinatra's version of "Bang, Bang", while overlooking this, if you were interested.

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**Chapter Twenty-five :: Chicago II**

 

 

* * *

 

Tony's hips worked of their own accord, chasing the sensation that ran rampant through his body like a wild fire. Sound thought, common sense had all but dissipated in his quest to make his body quiver and shake with pleasure; and he would be damned if he took a moment to overanalyze it.

Amora writhed underneath him, crying out in sharp and melodic sounds of approval; which only spurred him onward. His pace grew faster and more forceful; he felt sudden, stronger bursts of desire bubble up to the surface, and he could hardly contain the grunt that erupted from his lips.

He was close; his arms were shaking from the exertion of holding his own weight up, but even more so by how good he was feeling. By how well Amora's body curved and melded with his own; and yet, there was one thing that might very well tip him over the edge, if he allowed himself to close his eyes and envision planes of lily-white skin and lithe but muscular limbs.

Somewhere deep in his lust-addled mind, he conjured up the image of Loki Odinson, a legend amongst his peers now, splayed out underneath him and panting like a heat-addled bitch. He envisioned Loki's brow beaded with sweat, his eyelids heavy, and his mouth opened into a perfect 'o'.

Tony could fantasize that the steely hold around his hips, didn't belong to a dainty and pretty sixteen year old girl; but instead it belonged to Loki, whose legs went on for miles and were undoubtedly strong enough to leave bruises on his skin. And that the tight, wet heat that was he was thrusting into was actually the man who he idolized, practically worshiped even.

Those breathless mews that met his ears, would turn into snarls of want that demanded him to be more forceful, fuck harder until they were both spent and hazy. Once he closed his eyes, he rode on those images; forced his body to adapt to a brutal pace, which ripped ecstatic noises out of his bedmate, even if he wished they sounded so much different in comparison.

The pressure, the heat, everything was building up; he choked out a noise that was no louder than a whisper, and fisted his hands into the bed linens underneath Amora's body. He was beginning to lose all control, which was both liberating and strangely terrifying. But he wanted it badly; he hadn't wanted anything as badly as he did right now.

Loki, no Amora, bucked underneath him and brought him further into her body. They moved in time with one another, working towards a common goal, and Tony couldn't help but swear once Amora clenched around him; which briefly had him seeing stars and made his blood boil.

The pleasure roiled over him in unrelenting waves, to the point that was the only thing that mattered in his existence. He was so consumed by it that he was disoriented and maybe even stunned stupid by the sudden noise that met his ears. His hips stuttered and stilled, and reality suddenly struck him like a mallet to the face.

The bunk-bed's curtains had been wrenched open to reveal two people Tony never wanted to see while in such a compromising position. Sif stood there, jaw hanging open, the opposite reaction when she had uncovered Fandral with Natasha throat-deep on his cock, and stared at him like he'd grown a second head. Whereas Fandral burst out laughing, doubling over and slapping his knee like he'd stumbled across the funniest thing in the world.

"I can't breathe; I just can't, hold me, Siffy!" Fandral exploded with further laughter, leaning against Sif whom hadn't even blinked since catching Tony in the act.

Amora made a noise of surprise underneath Tony, covering her breasts with her hands; albeit that did very little to make the scene any less indecent. In fact, there wasn't very much either of them could do to right the situation; especially if both Sif and Fandral chose to stand there, in varying states of emotion.

Fandral eventually calmed himself enough to shoot Tony a grin, which could have only be described as congratulatory. While Sif, on the other hand, went from shocked to downright disgusted; her lip curled up as if she wanted to throw Tony and Amora out of the tour bus, and wipe her hands clean of the whole situation. But instead of doing anything of the sort, she grabbed onto the crook of Fandral's arm and manually dragged him away.

"Stellar job, mate," Fandral called back as he was pulled away, which Tony was sure would be the worst of it; and yet he just had to look up again and see another looming figure, who'd been hidden behind Sif and Fandral, and the overhang of the bunk-bed's nook.

If the situation hadn't already been humiliating enough, it had taken on another meaning altogether. Tony swore his blood had turned cold, maybe even into ice, as he stared at Loki; Loki, whose beautiful green eyes were narrowed into tiny slits, whose mouth was tightened into a straight line, and whose jacket hung limply from his right hand.

They stared at one another for so long, Amora began to squirm underneath him in discomfort and humiliation as well. Loki's eyes drew away from Tony, pinning Amora with an indiscernible expression; but Tony was sure that there was hatred and malice attached to it.

"I can explain!" Tony blurted out hoarsely.

Loki furrowed his brows in response, before he shook his head in a mixture of disbelief and disgust, worse than even what Sif displayed. Slowly almost painstakingly, Loki walked away; his footfall becoming quieter and quieter, until the sound disappeared completely.

Overwhelmed with panic, Tony disentangled himself from Amora, and began to gather his clothes that he had piled up in the corner of the bunk-bed. He quickly sorted through them and yanked on his clothes, faster than he ever had before. And that was saying something, since he frequently woke up late and had to rush to school to make it there on time.

However, Amora was slower to get up, and even slower to actually pull her garments on. She even had the gall to straighten her hair, running her fingers through it methodically, as if her physical appearance mattered when Loki had just stormed out of the bus and god only knew where he went.

"That wasn't how I imagined meeting Loki Odinson." She said finally.

"Well, you aren't going to meet him again!" Tony snarled, before grabbing her by the forearm, and directing her towards the front of the bus. "Actually, you have a non-stop trip to splitsville in your future!"

"Hey, let go of me now!" Amora demanded, although he only pulled her down the steps and outside into the brisk evening air.

He slammed the bus's door closed hard, only letting go of her once they were several feet away. The roadies were within hearing range, which made Tony grit his teeth in frustration. He didn't know if he wanted to yell at Amora for her carefree approach to the situation, or if he wanted to yell out at his own stupidity.

Now that the haze had faded, Tony realized just what a stupid thing he'd done. He brought some random fan back to the tour bus for sex; and he'd done so only half an hour before the band had gotten off stage. It was like he wanted to get caught in the act; it was like he wanted Loki to know that someone actually wanted him for a change, rather than the other way around.

And yet what did that accomplish? From the looks of it, he only invoked Loki's ire; if not his eternal hatred for the rest of his natural born life. He had basically shot himself in the foot; he made the person he _loved_ stare at him in disgust so palpable that he could almost taste it.

"Go find your friends and go home, Amora." He hissed out, suddenly struck by an emotional pain that he hadn't thought possible.

"Wait, you can't be serious." She returned with clear disbelief. "I didn't do anything! You're the one who suggested we go in there to begin with! How was I supposed to know the whole damn band would come over for a peek?"

"Go home!" Tony roared, which caught the roadies' attention; but he didn't care anymore, all he wanted to do was crawl in a hole and die.

Except when he spun around and stalked away, that was the last thing he was about to do. He wasn't about to go back onto the tour bus, back to the scene of the crime, and wallow in self-pity. No, he needed to find Loki and explain to him what happened; explain that Amora met nothing to him, that his stupid hormones had gotten the best of him, and that, that…

His mind hit a roadblock, although his feet still carried him towards the street. He knew he couldn't say the things he really felt to Loki; not by a long shot. He couldn't just blurt out how much he loved him, and how much he realized it once that angry look crossed over his face. But that's all he wanted to do; all he wanted to do was hold onto him, beg for forgiveness, and tell him how much he loved him. And it didn't matter if he was frequently distant, mean-spirited, and even manipulative; Tony didn't care.

Blindly Tony wandered the streets, looking through the crowd for Loki, whose superior height would have made him easier to spot out. He scoured every face, every tall and lanky body, praying (him, praying!) for any sight of Loki.

Regardless of the fact that he might very well be left behind Tony couldn't bring himself to go back without finding Loki alone. There wouldn't be any opportunity in the foreseeable future either, when he would be able to get him alone and beg for forgiveness. Sif would probably eat her own hand, before she'd allow that to happen.

Tony didn't know how long he wandered the streets; all that he knew was that his feet ached and his heart ached even more. He felt like he might actually cry; lose his cool in the middle of a strange street, in a huge city that he didn't know very well.

Tears stung his eyes, coming close to falling until he spotted a tall and lithe individual emerging from a random storefront. It was Loki, it really was Loki and he was clutching a cigarette pack in one hand, with one already between his lips. His bic lighter was already at the ready, flickering to life, before dying just as quickly.

Loki took a long draw from his cigarette, and then blew out a steady plume of smoke. It was then that Tony felt the tears build up even more; maybe it was because Loki had become the only constant over the past two months in his life, or it might have been because he felt stupid and childish for what he'd done. Either way, he couldn't help but take the last few steps towards Loki, who raised his head and sneered meanly in return.

"Loki," Tony said meekly, sure that his voice would crack if he had to articulate anything further.

"Little Stark, did you finish already?" Loki half-laughed, but it was by no means pleasant. "You looked to be enjoying yourself; I guess I should apologize that we'd interrupted you prematurely."

"Please,"

"Please? Please? Well, if you so insist! I apologize for interrupting you, while you ravaged that ugly little bird of yours! Next time, we'll call out before we get onto the bus; precautions, of course!"

"No, that's not what I meant." Tony swallowed hard, shaking like a leaf. "I'm sorry, I'm so, so sorry."

Slowly, methodically even, Loki approached him. The smell of cigarette smoke burnt his nostrils; but he didn't draw away, not even when Loki slid a hand across his shoulder, and cupped the side of his neck. Tony felt his fingers twitch against his skin, before they curled ever-so-slightly as if all Loki wanted to do was claw him half to death.

There was something angry, dark, and twisted behind those eyes; they were no longer bright and warm like they had been the previous night. In fact, Loki appeared to have gone through a complete transformation within that time frame.

"You're sorry? Why are you sorry?" Loki's voice hardened, in time with his eyes narrowing into tiny slits again. "Tell me why on bloody earth would you be sorry?"

"Over Amora; she meant nothing to me! I don't know why I did it, but she didn't mean a damn thing at all!" He choked out in a rush of words.

Without any warning whatsoever, Loki abruptly began to laugh. He pulled away from Tony, laughing on the verge of hysterics, as if Tony had said something humorous to begin with; which made the situation that much harder to deal with. It made every hurt that much more prominent, and he really wanted to cry over it.

"Why would I care about what you did, or what you do for that matter?" Loki asked in between dying peals of laughter. "Why would I _ever_ care about what you do, Tony Stark? You mean absolutely, and I mean absolutely, nothing to me. You are just a boy reporter, who is trying so desperately to make a mark in the world for himself. So why would that concern me in the slightest?"

"W-what," Tony stammered, struck by confusion and another wave of pain.

"Not every emotion I have revolves around you, you conceited little boy!" Loki yelled, eyes going wide and wild. "My universe does not revolve around you and whomever you choose to fuck like a desperate, uncoordinated animal! Perhaps you'd realize that, if you saw me, for once, as a human being rather than the object of your unwanted affection!"

The words hit Tony like a load of bricks. Every miserable, hateful word that his parents had slung his way felt inconsequential, petty even compared to what Loki had just said. He never knew it was possible to hurt that badly from a few words; hell, he didn't even realize that he had the capacity to feel like his whole world effectively ended just because someone didn't love him back.

Of course he hadn't been naïve; Loki had openly rejected him while on his birthday, but hearing those words didn't stave away the pain any less. They made him feel like the world was coming to an end, all because Loki wouldn't, or couldn't for that matter, love him.

Tony let out a tiny, unconvincing laugh; although he couldn't look away from Loki. And in that instance, the anger peeled away to reveal something vulnerable and pained on Loki's face. They probably, to the outside observer, looked like a matching pair. Both completely wrecked individuals, although their reasons for being wrecked were far different.

"I'm sorry, little Stark." Loki uttered sincerely, which threw Tony through another loop. "Come, let's head back before Phil tries to manually drag us back."

Even though he was stunned silly, confused as hell too, Tony obliged and fell into step beside Loki. Tears still burned his eyes, but luckily none of them fell; even though he really wanted them to. Maybe then he wouldn't feel so many things all at the same time; and yet his self-control was iron-clad.

They walked side-by-side in silence; Loki continued to smoke furiously, lighting another when the first dwindled away between his fingers. Tony noticed that Loki was smoking more nowadays, something interesting to add to the growing list of anomalies when it came to him.

And maybe Tony really was being presumptuous to believe Loki had been angry by his tryst with Amora. Clearly there was more to it than that; Loki never ate, he was smoking more, his actions were becoming more and more erratic. And then there was the extraordinary performances he was putting on; the ones that only began once they were midway through the tour. So maybe Tony's blatant disrespect by bringing a fan onto the bus for sex was just another irritation to the many he was currently experiencing.

"Sometimes," Loki slowly enunciated, almost as if he might blurt out what was troubling him. "Sometimes, I hate this so much; sometimes I just want to die."

The confession came out of left field, leaving Tony temporarily speechless, especially by how calm and collected Loki had said it. But before he could say anything significant, maybe even blubber like a newborn infant, Phil practically barreled down the street; he even shoved a few unsuspecting pedestrians out of the way to get to them.

Phil yelled out some indiscernible blather, meant only for Loki. And even if it had been meant for Tony, he was too consumed by what he just heard to interpret it correctly. Everything piled onto him all at once, and it was futile for him to try and do anything else but psychoanalyze what Loki had meant, and what Loki was inevitably going through right now.

Even his personal feelings, bruised and torn asunder as they were, were secondary in comparison to what Loki had said. So he kept his eyes glued onto Loki, whom barked something ugly at Phil, making him flinch, all the while keeping in step with Tony. And he stayed by Tony even as Sif and Fandral shot him knowing looks of what had transpired earlier, until he was sure that no one would say a word about it; before he eventually disappeared again into the back of the tour bus. And he would stay hidden for two whole days.


	27. Chapter Twenty-six :: Pittsburgh

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know if I should be embarrassed or not by the sheer amount of times I've updated within the past three days. I feel like I should be ashamed; but at least at this rate I'll finish this very soon.
> 
> And this chapter didn't necessarily come out the way I planned; then again sometimes you just have to go with the flow.

* * *

 

 

**Chapter Twenty-six :: Pittsburgh**

 

 

* * *

 

The good thing about the road, Tony surmised, was the fact that people you've met in one city didn't necessarily follow you to the next or even the next. Once the tour bus left Chicago and headed to Pittsburgh, the Amora problem had all but dissipated. Or in the very least, her physical presence had; the fallout from his stupid decision still remained though.

Fandral was by far more forgiving than Sif was; which, in a way, was highly hypocritical when he took into account the fact that both Fandral and Loki had gotten Natasha on her knees in record time. Not to mention, Tony suspected there were several more incidents that he wasn't entirely aware of.

Regardless of the fact that it was hypocritical, Sif had given him the cold shoulder for a good portion of the drive to Pittsburgh. And while she had finally gotten around to speaking to him, their interactions weren't as warm as they had been before Amora had come into the picture.

But if Tony were to be honest, that was only a secondary concern to him now. Loki had gone back into hiding and hadn't emerged from his bunk-bed, since their impromptu powwow in the middle of a Chicago street. And Tony still hadn't recovered fully from it; even the Stark family method couldn't stop him from feeling anymore, although he managed to keep control of his emotions well enough.

Tony used means of distraction to keep himself occupied; he even at some point in the middle of the night, dissected his emotions to the basics and analyzed each piece. What he'd come up with was fairly straight forward – he was experiencing his first love, which was made even worse by the gender of the person who he'd fallen in love with. And to add insult to injury, said person was in no way interested and frequently displayed mentally unsound tendencies.

So in order to combat the problem, rather than try to cope with it like a healthy person would, Tony had used nefarious means to get Loki's attention. Just like any spoiled child would, he'd purposely decided to cause a scene, in hopes that Loki would give him the time of day.

It hardly mattered that it had backfired in his face; he had inevitably gotten what he wanted. Loki had given him his undivided attention for a period of time, and in a way, regardless of how fucked up it really was, it had been worth it all.

However, being without Loki for two entire days was pure torture. Tony was almost scared by the knowledge that his attachment towards him had only grown, after this whole debacle. More so, after Loki had conveyed his emotions about either the tour or maybe even life in general.

While it had been apparent that Loki had his own problems to combat, Tony wanted to be near him. No matter how selfish it was, he couldn't seem to be without him for very long anymore; which was becoming more and more of a problem when he really thought about it. Because soon enough the tour would end, and Tony and Loki would be separated by an entire ocean.

The thought hurt as much, if not more, than the blow-up and rant Loki had gone on when they were in Chicago. Despite the fact that he'd apologized, the words that Loki had said couldn't be erased from Tony's brain. They sat on the edge of his consciousness, cropping up at any given moment; reminding him of the fact that he meant nothing to Loki. That he'd never mean anything to him.

Tony had to fight hard not to lose his cool, once he remembered those words. But it was far easier to keep a level head, while he was sitting alone in a balcony, overlooking the empty stage below. The roadies had given him clearance into the theater, and he suspected they sympathized with him after they saw him fighting with Amora several days ago.

So he'd slunk into the balcony, determined to write further on his article. He'd already written a page and a half, and a brief read-over revealed a pretty solid beginning. Surely, he'd want to do some editing once he'd gotten in front of his typewriter; but so far so good.

Hogun would probably be pleased as punch with it; although he'd probably make it a point to give Tony an exasperated eye roll, once he noticed how much of a first person narrative it truly was. But since Hogun had a hard-on for Hunter S. Thompson, he'd let it see the light of day nonetheless (like every other article Tony had written).

Sometime after sitting down and putting pen to paper, Tony got lost in the story of the band. The emotional turmoil was briefly put onto the backburner, while he compiled the many details that would paint the story of being on the road with an up and coming band. One who was showing undeniable potential, especially since their show in Nashville.

He was completely consumed with telling the story, glad that his photographic memory hadn't been compromised by his weed and alcohol use, that he didn't even notice that someone had settled into the seat beside him. Hell, he probably wouldn't have even acknowledged them, had it not been for the evasive cough that pulled him away from reel of film in his head.

Tony slowly raised his eyes, surprised to see Thor sitting beside him, and looking very uncomfortable. Truth be told, Tony was glad he was uncomfortable; he still hadn't forgiven him for that kick to the kidneys and the lack of apology thereafter.

"Can I help you?" He asked, compelled to look back at the notepad spread across his lap, instead of the hulking Englishman who could probably snap his neck without even trying.

Thor shifted in his seat, before he turned his body to properly face Tony. There were a slew of emotions that ran across his face, as if he couldn't figure out exactly how to feel or even why for that matter. Which seemed to be a common trait with the Odinson brothers; although they both had a penchant for showing their rage with their fists; Tony didn't want to know how they showed their affection. Well, maybe Loki, but that was beside the point.

"What's been going on between you and Loki?" Thor blurted out, almost looking sheepish for even vocalizing his thought.

"The same thing that's been going on between you and me, big guy," Tony replied without any inflection. "I'm here to interview you for Rolling Stone magazine and by extension Loki."

"No, I don't think that's it at all." Thor shook his head.

Something akin to panic bubbled up in Tony, and he really didn't know why. Thor, of course, was a physical specimen, the kind that could destroy him if he wanted to. But to think that he'd lash out if he knew the truth about Tony's affections, was almost laughable; considering the fact that Thor couldn't even stand Loki most of the time.

The two of them were a disaster in the making. The band wouldn't be able to withstand the tension for very much longer, unless Thor or even Loki for that matter, stopped being pigheaded and made an effort to compromise with one another. Then again, hell freezing over had a better chance of occurring before then.

"Why would I lie to you?" Tony breathed out, tilting his head so he could study Thor's face better. "What would I have to gain by telling you a lie?"

"I think you are lying to me, Tony Stark; and I think it's because you are ashamed of whatever you feel towards my brother." Thor said tightly; his whole body had gone rigid, which temporarily caused Tony to tense as well.

"I don't know what you're getting at, but I don't necessarily appreciate it."

"I'm giving you a word of advice, Stark; so you'd be smart to listen to it. Stay away from my brother."

"That sounds more like a threat than a friendly word of advice." Tony shot back, feeling anger bubble inside of him.

Thor had the gall to laugh; he threw back his head and chortled loudly. It really must have been a family trait, despite the fact that Loki was adopted; because both brothers seemed to have a thing for condescending laughter, whenever they thought someone was being stupid.

"Why would I threaten you?"

"The same reason I would lie to you, I guess."

"This is a word of advice, Stark." Thor suddenly sobered up, jutting his index finger at Tony's chest. "My brother is manipulative and unstable at the best of times. He has always had problems; he could have easily been anything that he liked in life, but he'd chosen a life of squalor before he joined the band."

"Hold on, big guy," Tony held up a hand, trying to gather his bearings. "Your girlfriend said he was in school for architecture and that he dropped out because of money."

"She would say that, and it's because that's what I told her." Thor tightened his jaw. "The truth is that Loki willingly left university; he did so, on a whim, and went missing for almost a year before he resurfaced at a shoddy pub as a barkeep."

"I don't understand."

"I'd never gotten the full story from Loki about where he'd gone. And most of the time he lies, so relying on his word alone would be awfully foolish. But what I have heard, from a friend of a friend, was that Loki had hopped between Germany and France, and was frequently seen using drugs. Someone even told me, a reliable source that I would trust with my life, that Loki had been supporting his lifestyle by prostituting himself to rich older men."

Tony shut his eyes, taking in a deep breath. He already learned the hard way how reliable word of mouth was. Sif had been convinced that Loki had been pulling sexual favors for Heimdall, in order to throw his weight freely around with the band. And he knew right away, he couldn't believe anything Thor was saying about Loki now.

However, he also knew it would be equally stupid to have blind faith when it came to Loki. There were far too many accounts of him passing along sexual favors for some sort of gain. And in a way, Tony had been on the receiving end of something similarly; although Loki's true motives were still up in the air.

"Do you really think so poorly of him?" Tony suddenly asked; surprised by the calmness he displayed when his insides were a tangle of emotions.

"It's not a matter of my opinion." Thor tried to defend himself. "My brother has had serious problems from a very young age; so these things are not exactly surprising anymore."

"Just because he got raped as a kid, you'd think he would whore himself out to everyone with a dick?" Tony lowered his voice, unsurprised by the alarm that overwhelmed Thor's face. "Loki might be many things, but at the end of the day the main thing he is, is manipulative. He doesn't have to fuck anyone for what he wants; the allure of it is enough to make some old shit give him the world."

"How-"

"Let me tell you something, if you're surprised that he _hates_ you so much, well you're an idiot. Loki probably knows full well that you think lowly of him. Hell, I'd hate you too if you were passing on this bullshit as fact." Tony stood, holding his notepad to his chest. "Trust me, Thor; I know when I'm being yanked around. This wasn't some public service announcement, making sure the reporter stays out of harm's way; this was a ploy on your part to influence me. Maybe to shift the attention off of Loki and onto you; Thor, thunder god and band leader, with his far out electric guitar."

Tony's previous misgivings about Loki were wiped completely out of his mind. In fact, he believed more than ever that Thor really was trying to influence him. After all, it would knock Loki down a few pegs, and well it might harm the band briefly; but the allure of a male prostitute as your lead singer, might actually bring more attention the band in the end.

Before Thor could potentially pound his head in, Tony strode away. His heart was beating incredibly fast and for a split-second he thought he might throw up. And it was because he was scared of Thor; scared that he might come after him like he always did with Loki. But more so, because he was starting to realize that no one was in Loki's corner.

The people that were supposed to protect him, to care and love him, really didn't give a damn at all about him. His own brother was tarnishing his name out of jealousy; the same brother who screwed him out of his rightful pay. It was no wonder the guy was completely fucked up.


	28. Chapter Twenty-seven :: Pittsburgh II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this ended differently than what I expected. So it'll be interesting to see how things progress from here on out.
> 
> And I have to take the time out and thank everyone for being so sweet; thank you so much for the comments, the kudos, the fanart (dear god this one really bowled me over), and the follows on Tumblr! I'm overwhelmed by all of it, so thank you so much! It means the world to me, and I'll take it as an early birthday present!
> 
> Anyway, while I was writing the last half of this story I was listening to Carina Round's "Do You"; of course it's not a song from the seventies, but it kind of fit the mood anyway. So if you're interested, it's worth a listen to!

* * *

 

 

**Chapter Twenty-seven :: Pittsburgh II**

 

 

* * *

 

Four shows, four legendary performances; Loki was on some kind of streak, and maybe that contributed to his heightened spirits, and the reason why he'd dived into a group of over-enthusiastic girls whom kissed every inch of his face with varying shades of lipstick.

Once he emerged from his sea of loyal fans, his face was colored the brightest of reds and the faintest of pinks, and every color in between. One of his sleeves had been ripped to his elbow, while some speedy and deft fingered girl, had somehow worked down the fly of his black bell-bottoms.

Tony watched the scene unfold with trepidation; there was means for concern, of course. Loki was hardly the type to be jovial, and the only time he had been was when he'd taken something. No one had ever pinpointed exactly what he'd taken or even who'd given it to him; but it should have been a cause for concern. Or maybe Tony was just being too analytical about everything that involved Loki nowadays.

Loki was in the midst of zipping up his fly, winking at the girls who'd been responsible; before licking his bottom lip that Bloomingdale's makeup counter would be envious of. The newest summer palette was on full display on his face, and if anyone was privy to, they could probably find the shade best for them.

"Feisty," Loki said, once he found the microphone again; which he had tossed to the stage when he climbed into the crowd. "I like that."

The group of girls screeched loudly, some yelling out the obligatory remarks of _I love you_ and _marry me_ accordingly. Which, in turn, only caused Loki to grin wider and even chuckle goodheartedly; two things that Tony knew were uncharacteristic of him to do to begin with.

Unless Loki had gone through some sort of metamorphose during his self-containment, Tony had to assume the worst. That somehow Loki had gotten a hold of someone with drugs, and taken whatever would boost his mood the best. And it was hardly impossible to find someone who had a baggie or two, willing to sell things or even give them away just for the hell of it.

"As you would know, this is our first time in America." Loki stretched out his arm, as the crowd hooted in response. "And you have been nothing but kind to us. So let me be kind to you, in return."

As if on cue, Volstagg began to drum explosively loud, while the lights dimmed to a familiar red hue. The crowd immediately went wild, recognizing the song that was about to be played; it was their well-known one, their most popular one, _Mischief Abound_.

Thor began to play the song masterfully on his guitar, and was quickly accompanied by Fandral. Everyone within the vicinity began to sway to the music; many people had already whipped out the bic lighters, and began waving them to and fro.

The atmosphere was electric, almost dream-like. Tony felt like he was struck with a bout of déjà vu, as he watched the band at their best. It reminded him of the first time he saw them in Los Angeles; he'd been so eager, so wide-eyed and bushy-tailed (as Sif had put it), and hypnotized by the music and the performance. But more importantly, he'd been mesmerized by Loki himself.

Tonight was no different; Loki strolled from one side of the stage to the other, pausing beside Thor who leaned back against him, before he wrapped an arm around his shoulders. Tony had frequently seen Loki and Thor interact on stage, but never in a brotherly manner as they were currently; which sparked his suspicions even more.

Loki raised the microphone to his lips, belting out the lyrics to the best of his ability that went above and beyond any normal singer's capabilities. Even though he might have been on something, Loki still shined brighter than anyone Tony had ever seen perform; he was still the most talented, most beautiful human being Tony had ever seen.

The crowd danced and flailed with the music; everyone was hypnotized by the performance. They sang along word for word, even mimicking Loki as his voice grew an octave louder than it had been before, hitting that pitch-perfect note that only the likes of Robert Plant could pull off.

That only drove everyone into more of a frenzy; their dancing became more wild and uncoordinated, and the number of lights flashed and doubled in a matter of seconds. Tony gaped, entranced even more so by Loki, who slid away from Thor and doubled over backwards by the sheer force in which he was singing.

Every vein in Loki's throat rose underneath his lily-white skin, coinciding with how he continued to bend over backwards in a way that brought indecent and impure thoughts into Tony's head; and god only knew how flexible Loki was, while in the heat of the moment.

Slowly the song began to draw to a close; the ferocity of the music began to quiet down, alongside Loki's voice that had hit its peak only moments beforehand, and was now replaced by a breathy croon that did funny things to Tony. But it only increased a tenfold, when Loki righted himself, bending forward this time and lowering himself to the stage.

Tony held his breath, watching as Loki crawled to the edge of the stage. The band slowly grew quiet, leaving Loki to sing the last bars of the song, and right to one of the girls who'd been part of the group that kissed him silly.

The dark-haired girl, who'd been chosen, mouthed the lyrics to Loki, whose lips crooked up in reply before his voice cut off completely. Suddenly Loki lurched forward, kissing the girl full on the mouth, which made the crowd cheer from both the performance and the passion that was thrown behind the lip-lock. Even from Tony's vantage point, he could see that kiss had deepened to involve tongue.

It lasted for no more than ten seconds, but it was enough to make white-hot jealousy erupt in Tony. He knew it was unjustified, had told himself that hundreds of times after the first time he felt it; but it didn't get any easier seeing Loki pay attention to someone else.

Without any warning, the room was plunged into darkness; which meant only one thing: Loki's solo was about to happen very soon. Tony crossed his arms, letting out a heavy breath in hopes of calming himself down.

"He's pretty happy today, don't you think?" Sif's voice wafted up to him from the darkness, and luckily he didn't jump like he really felt like doing when he heard her.

"I imagine we're on the same wavelength about that." He said, staring straight ahead into the pressing darkness.

"More than likely," Sif affirmed, somehow managing to keep the worry out of her voice; although Tony suspected she was just as concerned as he was about the matter.

"So there's nothing we can do. The guy's been going off the deep end more and more; or so it seems to me."

"I know you had a talk with Thor this afternoon." She mumbled, abruptly changing topics as if that was the reason she was actually talking to him in the first place.

Tony whistled lowly; the last thing he wanted to talk about was Thor. Not when he felt the guy was being an asshole on purpose. Because who would really tell a complete stranger, that their younger brother was apparently turning tricks for blow money?

"Do you really think this a good time to have this conversation?" He asked, as the crowd rumbled impatiently for the solo to begin. "I mean, I doubt you really want to hear what I have to say about your boyfriend anyway."

"Then you really don't know me that well, then do you?" Sif chimed in sarcastically. "But let me fill you in on something, Tony; Thor loves Loki more than you can even imagine. Sure, he's the first to believe anything bad about Loki, but that's because Loki has done a lot of things that Thor has witnessed firsthand.

"Trust me, he feels like shit for whatever he said to you. And I would know; I know when he's upset and regrets things he has done. And boy did he regret whatever he said to you; he was beating himself up about it for hours."

Tony bit the inside of his cheek, resisting the urge to tell her that Thor had even lied to her. But he knew it wasn't his place, even if he felt vindictive about the whole situation. He would just have to let them work out the situation for themselves; preferably when they were an ocean away from him.

"So don't hold it against him, please." Sif's voice suddenly grew softer, which, almost like witchcraft, somehow lessened the anger Tony felt.

One by one all the lights came back to life again, saving Tony from the uncomfortable task of replying to Sif. He was relieved because he knew he'd eventually give into her. And right now, he just wanted to be angry at someone, anyone; although being angry at Thor was already too easy, since he still had a fading bruise where he'd been kicked like a stray dog.

Loki reappeared on stage, sending the crowd into another fit. Screams, catcalls, and whistle punctuated the air as he leisurely slunk towards the lone stool in front of the microphone stand. His acoustic guitar was clutched in his right hand, but he soon took it between both hands, as he situated himself in front of the microphone.

The makeup that had been on his face, was now washed clean although his lips were an unnatural color of red; which seemed to suggest that he scrubbed them in order to clean them off. And for whatever reason, Tony was pleased to see that he wasn't wearing those lip marks as some kind of badge of honor.

"Hello Pittsburgh," Loki hummed, directing his usual spiel to the audience. "My name is Loki Odinson and before you go, I'd like to play a song for you. And normally it would be a cover song, but today I've decided to play you an original song; a song I'd written several months ago. One that no one has ever heard before,"

"Fucking hell," Tony blurted out, overwhelmed by a burst of anticipation and excitement alike.

He wasn't the only one who responded similarly; the crowd shouted out their approval as well. But they quieted down almost immediately, once Loki pressed his index finger to his lips.

"This song is simply called _Amelia_." Loki uttered seriously, which was a different tone when compared to his wild antics on the stage no more than ten minutes ago.

However, that was irrelevant in comparison to the sudden realization Tony was hit by. Sif took in a loud inhalation, triggering something from months ago into the forefront of Tony's mind. On the first day he had really seen Loki, not on stage anyway, he'd been having a conversation with Sif. And he'd shown her something written on his notebook, a song. It was the song he wrote for _her_.

The unfamiliar melody echoed off the theater's walls, both beautiful and haunted. Everyone in the room had gone absolutely still, mesmerized by the man on the stage that'd changed Tony's life forever. The same one who was tearing his heart asunder for the umpteenth time in so many months; but what was even more troubling was that, Loki was really shooting himself in the foot. Again.

The words dripped sensually from Loki's lips, soft and devoted words that would have any sane person falling to their knees and begging for mercy. There was intensity in Loki's eyes, sparked by the unrequited love he harbored for Sif; and maybe there was rebelliousness behind it all too. As if he knew exactly what he was doing after all, and that his jubilant behavior was just another act, instead of a side effect of something he'd taken beforehand.

"You idiot," Sif gasped out, although Tony couldn't discern the emotion behind it. "You _fucking_ idiot."

Loki leaned inward into the microphone, his eyes scrunching up, as he put every fiber of his being behind that song. And Tony was sure that's exactly what he was doing; Loki was exposing himself from the inside-out, putting himself on full display for a group of strangers. But more importantly, for the people who claimed to know him so well; and in those moments, he disproved their belief entirely.

Every word sung; every string strummed seemed to be another nail in the coffin. Every time the name Amelia escaped Loki's lips, was another goodbye, another rejection of the band. He was breaking his ties with them, one by one and he knew it too.

The bastard knew what this would do, and yet he still had the gall to sing so sweetly, beautifully and pretend that his intentions were of a lovelorn fool rather than what he really was. Loki was a malicious, pathological liar; every action he'd taken, every word he'd spoken finally made so much sense now.

Tony realized that everyone had been right about him; he'd been just too naïve, love stricken to realize it for himself until now. Loki Odinson was a broken individual, who was the villain to his own story; he was the one that brought on his own hardships, while pretending that he was the victim. But the reality was that he played everyone masterfully; he played _Tony_ masterfully.

It was in that moment, as the melody began to dwindle and the name Amelia came from Loki's lips once more, that Tony felt the love he had for Loki crumble and disappear; replaced instead by white-hot hatred that was only fueled by the wicked grin that Loki gave to the audience; the masses who blindly gave him their love without question.


	29. Chapter Twenty-eight :: Washington D. C.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have to say you guys are the best; I've been so overwhelmed by the reception I've received on this story. I never imagined it and you guys really make my day.
> 
> I also wanted to thank xboobookittyx for the AMAZING fanart she did for this story. You can look at it here: http://xboobookittyx.tumblr.com/image/43743508455. I cannot tell you how much I love it; it's just so amazing! T^T
> 
> As for any music I've listened to while writing this, well, I listened to "Immigrant Song" by Led Zeppelin, as I wrote the end of it.

* * *

 

 

 

**Chapter Twenty-eight :: Washington D. C.**

 

* * *

The tension was palpable. Tony clicked on the tape recorder, keeping his eyes on the open notepad, where he'd written generic, uninteresting questions to ask the bespectacled man across from him. Any rookie reporter could have compiled a similar list, and if his pride been a factor currently, Tony would have been ashamed of himself.

"What inspired you to become a musician?" He asked in a monotone, pressing the tip of his fountain pen to the paper, ready to cross off the question once it was answered appropriately.

"Money,"

"Who are your musical inspirations?" He crossed off the first question, while reading off the second.

"Lennon and McCartney," his interviewee returned unaffected, although super manager extraordinaire squeezed his forearm in a vice-like grip. "Plant and Page too,"

Tony dragged his pen harshly across the page, feeling an irrational wave of emotion trying to fight its way to the surface. But he refused to give into it; not when he had found a happy medium now. He frequently had to hide what he was feeling, using a variety of methods in order to do so; so this wasn't any different.

If he kept his eyes lowered, disregarding the fact that his previous idol, Loki Odinson, sat across from him with a set of sunglasses on that Ray Charles would be envious of, and an ugly purple bruise that ran from his jaw to his temple on the left side of his face; then he could keep with his nonchalant attitude.

"When did you learn to play guitar?" Tony asked, only to see Phil's fingers twitch against the tabletop; the ones that weren't holding onto Loki still.

"Maybe eleven, twelve," Loki replied.

"When did you discover you could sing?"

"Okay, that's it. This interview's over." Phil interrupted, forcing Tony to look up. "Come on, Loki. Amelia will back any minute now, and we need to fix _this_."

Phil slid out of the booth, in order for Loki to follow suit; albeit Tony wasn't about to make it easy on either of them. He'd been promised an hour, uninterrupted, in Loki's company and that's exactly what he was going to get. Not because he legitimately wanted to spend time with him; more so because it was the principle of the matter.

He had been promised and he deserved that hour. Loki had put off the inevitable for way too long already, and if Tony wanted to ask him mundane and inane questions for that period of time, it was his right. Clicking off the tape recorder, Tony glowered at Phil and received a similar look in return.

"I was promised an hour."

"Yes, you were. But you're wasting our time and we have things to do." Phil frowned at him, beckoning Loki to get out of the booth.

"You mean fix his face?" Tony scoffed. "Because if I remember correctly he brought that onto himself by being an absolute dick,"

Without so much as a word to combat such a claim, Loki slowly got onto his feet; although it appeared to be a struggle for him to do so. Thor had, after all, given him a beating that he wouldn't soon forget. So severe even that Phil demanded, unwaveringly even, to take Loki to the nearest hospital; which had revealed several things, one being that Loki had had a hit of LSD.

But that garnered very little sympathy from anyone. Tony was almost certain that he was the only who'd spoken to Loki since the Pittsburgh debacle. And even then, he wasn't thrilled to do so; it was just something he had to do. Or in the very least, it was a concerted effort, since he really didn't give a damn whose Loki's musical influences were; and he suspected he lied just to be an asshole anyway.

"Once you've decided to interview him properly then you'll get your hour." Phil said in a voice that oozed of professionalism, even though his face told Tony all he needed to know – he could go to hell if he was going to speak against the almighty Odinson.

An ugly retort was on the tip of his tongue, and he was both ready and willing to unleash it; but Sif slowly emerged from the front of the tour bus, carrying a shopping bag with a department store's logo on the side of it. She looked awkwardly between them, before she settled her gaze onto Loki, whom wrapped himself into so many layers that someone might have thought it was smack-dab in December instead of July.

For several moments no one said anything; it was only when Sif deposited the bag onto the tabletop and started to extract several cosmetics that Phil began to ask questions about what could be done to hide the damage that Thor had caused to Loki's face.

No one truly knew the extent of the damage, except for Loki himself. But it must have been bad if Phil had to send Sif for makeup to hide it. Not even the last time did they go to such drastic measures; then again Loki had been fighting back that time, instead of lying there and taking it from what Tony had heard.

"I think it would be best if we did it here at the table. There's better lighting up here than in the back." Sif explained quietly, picking up a small container of what looked like concealer. "And we can see, you know, what needs to be taken care of."

Phil shot Tony a look, clearly telling him to get lost; but he'd be damned if he scampered off that easily. Especially not after his interview was cut short, since apparently he was wasting their time; which he most definitely was doing, but they didn't need to know that.

Tony shrugged as Phil mouthed _get out_ at him, before he turned his attention onto Sif who was unwrapping the concealer and a bottle of foundation; whereas Loki only stood there, supporting his weight against the side of the booth, just in case he took a tumble. Which, in turn, would have made Tony's day that much brighter.

"Could you, please," Sif motioned around the upper-half of her face. "So I can see what I need to cover up."

Wordlessly Loki reached up and slid the dark glasses off his face, which sent a collective gasp of shock amongst the group. Tony too found himself shocked by the damage Thor had done to him; while he had only heard bits and pieces about what had transpired during the fight, he really hadn't expected to see something so _awful_.

Both of Loki's eyes had been blackened badly; his right eye had appeared to have taken the brute of the attack though. The white of his eye was no longer white at all, but an astonishing red, which obviously couldn't be remedied by any of the makeup Sif had brought with her.

"Quite dashing, don't you think?" Loki finally spoke up, since no one had done so.

"Loki, goddammit," Sif made a weird noise in the back of her throat, slamming the makeup containers back onto the table. "Why did you have to sing that song? Why did you have to be so stupid?"

Something almost like hurt passed across Loki's face, before it was smoothed over by his trademark nonchalance. He didn't answer her right away; rather he sat back down, and reached for one of the many containers of makeup. Slowly he began to stack them, arrange them by size, anything to keep from answering her. Or maybe he was just gathering his thoughts.

"It wasn't stupid." Loki uttered quietly, before letting out a small, self-deprecating chuckle. "Or maybe it was because I haven't felt this terribly in sometime. Either way, there's no point on trying to cover up the damage; it'll be entertaining for everyone to see what happened. Don't you think?"

"You are such a martyr!" Tony suddenly said, momentarily taken aback by his own gall. "You brought this onto yourself by thinking it was a brilliant idea to sing a love song to your brother's girlfriend! And let's be absolutely honest here, you wanted to piss off Thor just so you could carry on being the victim!"

"So the reporter speaks," Loki lifted his head to stare Tony dead in the eye. "I wondered when you'd drop your pathetic attempt at neutrality and nonchalance, and finally speak your mind. I've known you were itching to from the beginning, but you thought you had enough willpower to keep it at bay. Clearly you did not."

"Now I understand why no one can stand you. It's pretty apparent why Sif chose Thor over you; she'd probably jump off a building if she had to deal with you for an extended period of time."

"Oh, how your tune has changed, love." Loki leaned inward with a frown firmly intact on his lips. "But that's fine, because I would prefer your ire compared to your affection any day."

The sincerity in that statement, briefly derailed Tony from the fight he wanted to pick. He hadn't expected Loki to be honest with him on any front; considering the fact, the guy was a well-documented liar. Not to mention, he didn't owe Tony a damn thing; including the truth.

Loki turned away from him, only to open up one of the makeup products, pouring some onto the tips of his fingers, before swiping it across his left cheek. Sif quickly swooped in and took the bottle away from him, and instead began to gently apply some onto his face herself.

"Can we please not fight anymore?" Sif asked after several moments, while she continued to apply the makeup onto Loki's skin. "There are only three more shows to go. I think we can all survive that many, don't you agree?"

"There are only three more shows for you." Loki murmured, shutting his eyes in a pained cringe from Sif's ministrations. "We still have our fair share of shows to go."

There was a tiredness, a dejectedness even, to Loki that Tony had really noticed beforehand. After all, Loki seemed almost inhuman at times; hell, he had yet to witness the bastard eat anything. But it was evident, behind the grandeur and the haughty attitude; there was something underneath the surface that very few people were allowed to see.

Tony watched as Sif applied a healthy amount of foundation to Loki's face, which made him look paler than he usually was. Except it couldn't hide the exhaustion that had settled onto his features; nothing was strong enough to do that, aside from several days in bed. And he wasn't about to get that any time soon.

"I know it would be too much to ask if you and Thor could get along." Sif piped up again, sparing a look over her shoulder at Phil, who had settled against the kitchenette's counter. "And trust me, you aren't the only one I'm going to have a chat with about this issue."

"I think we are beyond that point, Amelia." Loki returned sharply, opening one eye, the bloodshot one. "Thor and I have been on bad terms, since he forged my signature and then didn't even bother to apologize to me after the fact."

"You'd still be working in a dirty ass bar if he hadn't." Tony supplied, despite the severe look Loki shot his way. "You should be happy that people practically worship you like you're a god, instead of bitching and complaining about it all day long."

"Tony, cut it out." Sif said in exasperation.

"Let me explain something to you, Little Stark." Loki pointed at him. "I hadn't any problem with how my life had progressed back then; the only ones who did were the people around me. Never once did I ask Thor to lift me out of squalor or anyone else for that matter. So it would serve you well to know your facts, before you base your opinion of me on Thor's word alone."

"Well, I really can't trust you to tell me the truth. Everyone knows you're the textbook example of a pathological liar." Tony pressed further, feeling that mixture of anger and hatred roil through him. "So I kind of have to base my opinion on what others say about you. You know, the drug taking prostitute."

The bus suddenly went very quiet; someone, although it wasn't Loki, inhaled sharply. Tony wasn't sure if he regretted saying what he did or not. It had been a defense mechanism, after all. When the going got tough, the Stark mouth blabbed on and on; words were like weapons, and Tony was always known for his gift of gab.

Loki had gone perfectly still, almost statue-like. Several terse moments passed, before Loki closed his eyes and took in a few calming breaths. Once he opened his eyes again, he looked oddly calm as if Tony hadn't just insulted him for the umpteenth time within a twenty minute time frame.

"Assumptions will be the death of your career. I look forward to that." Loki said smoothly.

"Don't worry about me, babe. Daddy Stark won't let me starve."

"So you have more skills than being a perpetual pest?"

"I think you've already seen a few." Tony shot back, making sure that Loki understood his implication; and the bastard had the gall to look incensed, and for fuck's sake he almost looked _jealous_ too.

Without any warning, Loki practically lunged across the table; makeup products went flying every which way and Sif cried out in surprise. She backed away several steps, but looked ready and willing to yank Loki back into his seat if the need arose. And Tony was pretty sure that she should have already been intervening instead of watching the situation unfold.

"Let me tell you something, Little Stark." Loki hissed; his eyes widened comically wide, but they looked crazed too thanks to that one red eye. "I would fuck you so hard; your alcoholic mother would sober up and feel it too."

"Then do it. Mommy dearest hasn't been sober for a very long time now." Tony blurted out, even though his face flushed immediately thereafter. "Unless you aren't man enough, that is,"

Something fierce and possessive, and dear god almighty, it looked like willingness, streaked across Loki's face. Tony felt himself flush even darker than he had only moments ago; but it only got progressively worse when Loki licked his bottom lip, and made of show of biting down on it too.

"Come back to me, when you're man enough to take _me_." Loki whispered it out, before shoving himself back into his previous position, and apologizing to Sif and Phil simultaneously.

Tony stayed frozen to the spot, ignoring Sif's concerned and inquisitive looks, and instead focused on steadying his breathing that had gone out of whack for those brief moments. And he wasn't about to get up now, because he was pretty sure Loki's words gotten him hard in a split-second flat; which made him angrier than hell.

His body betrayed him already, when his mind had been dead-set on hating Loki's ass. He remembered very vividly now why he was so opposed to love not so long ago; why he frequently dumped his girlfriends before an emotional connection could begin. And it was because emotions made you stupid, irrational when all you wanted to do was bash the person's face in; more so than their Viking-built older brother already had.

Tony hated to admit it, loathed it even, but he couldn't deny it: he was fucked regardless of what he did.


	30. Chapter Twenty-nine :: Washington D. C. II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lot of people have been asking about when a certain event was going to happen, so here it is. And as always, thank you for the unwavering support; you guys are the greatest. :D
> 
> As of right now, there are four more chapters to go and the epilogue. I hope to get it done by Wednesday; so let's see if I don't trip up.

* * *

 

 

**Chapter Twenty-nine :: Washington D. C. II**

 

 

* * *

 

Tony slurped noisily at his cup of coffee, taking the prolonged moments of silence to construct his article further. He had a good feeling about it, mostly because he decided after his one-on-one with Loki that he was going to be brutally honest. The type of honest that would garner people's ire; but really, when did the likes of Tony Stark, or any Stark for that matter, shun away from public ridicule?

After so many weeks on the road with a rock band, if Tony hadn't any dirt on them, well that would have just made him a sucker. Of course, he wasn't above omitting things, personal things, in the band's best interest. But he was beyond caring if he offended them, particularly a green-eyed bastard who he intended on calling out for his temper tantrums and perpetual antagonism of his fellow band mates.

Once he established the fact that everything was free game and nothing (mostly) was sacred anymore, his article practically poured out of him. It came out in a rush of words, confessions, and details; and within an hour, Tony had written a solid three pages, which overwrote his previous efforts that he'd been working on during the band's stop in Pittsburgh.

Rolling Stone magazine was going to have to put Odin's Sons on the cover, once they read his article. Hogun was going to have to admit that he was a genius, to his face, and bow before him; because even Hogun wasn't above recognizing genius, and Tony wasn't above recognizing the fact that he was one.

He paused long enough to spy a look at Sif, whom was looking out into the dark D. C. street with a forlorn expression on her face. After the show had ended, successfully despite Loki's mangled appearance, they decided to flee for a few hours and collect their bearings. Both of them needed it, so they wandered the streets until they came across the twenty-four restaurant they were currently sitting in, and had been sitting in for almost an hour.

Neither of them had spoken much, which was just fine for Tony. It had given him the much needed time to write and alleviate the stress he'd been going through for some time now. Sif, however, looked like the weight of the world had fallen completely onto her shoulders; and it was the first time that Tony noticed how tired she looked, almost as tired as Loki had appeared.

For someone so jovial, bright as sunshine even, this was a new side to Sif. But he supposed there was a lot of bullshit she was going through currently, seeing as she was the object of affection of two crazy brothers who didn't know how to act like civilized human beings. Some might be envious of her, but Tony only felt sympathy for her; especially since he now knew what she had to deal with day in and day out.

"Hey, I'm not used to this doom and gloom Siffy." Tony set down his pen, before making a grab for his coffee mug again. "It's throwing me off a little."

Sif turned her head to look at him, giving him a small, sad smile; it was almost apologetic even. He liked that even less than he had, when she was looking out the window like her entire world was crumbling in on itself; which was probably a pretty good description of it.

"Sorry, I was just thinking." She murmured, turning her body so she was fully facing him rather than the window.

"Thinking about some doom and gloom shit."

"It's hard, you know." She sighed, dropping her eyes to the beaten-up tabletop. "I've become the focal point of Thor and Loki's sibling rivalry. Even if I try to ignore it and pretend like it's not the case. But it's kind of hard to ignore now."

"It was hard to ignore the first time I saw Loki talking to you." Tony replied, taken aback by the bitterness in his tone.

No matter how much he worked on keeping his emotions in check, Tony was incapable of shutting them off entirely. Even though he was fully aware that Loki was a manipulative son of a bitch, who'd use anything in his arsenal to control the people around him; Tony couldn't just pretend that his feelings were inconsequential.

Tony still loved Loki, regardless of everything that happened; no less the things that would occur when his article was published. And he imagined there would be a huge fallout once that happened; Phil would probably track him down and personally kick his ass.

"I've always vehemently denied the fact that Loki might have feelings towards me." Sif said slowly, almost carefully as if she was traversing a field with landmines hidden around it; and Tony happened to be one of the landmines.

"Technically, you're still denying it. So let's clear the air: Loki is in love with you. He loves you as much as a psychopathic, narcissist can anyway."

"Please don't say that."

"Everyone knows he loves you; the bastard practically announced it to the whole free world in Pittsburgh, and welcomed a beating because of it. Sure, he probably used it to fuel his own hatred of Thor; but he mostly did it to make some kind of a point. It was a declaration to you and everyone he knew that he loves you, and if he has to take a fist to the face, he'll do it." Tony scowled, before taking a swig from his coffee mug. "And god only knows how long this has been going on; because from an outsider's perspective, it seems more than a passing fancy."

They shared an uncomfortable stare, which inevitably ended in Tony clenching his jaw just so he wouldn't say anything untoward to her. Because while logical thought knew Loki's affections for Sif was beyond her control, the emotional haywire part of him wanted to yell at her; yell himself hoarse like a spoiled child who was being denied the toy that they most desired.

"I met Loki after he officially joined the band." Sif traced a large scuff mark on the tabletop with her finger. "He was already engaged to his girlfriend at the time, a beautiful brunette with big blue eyes. Her name was Astrid, if I remember correctly."

Tony tried to envision the type of girl Loki was privy to; one that he'd willingly get on one knee and propose to no less. And the image he conjured up was oddly similar to Loki himself; a tall, lithe model-like creature who carried herself with unwavering confidence. The sort of girl that was totally out of Tony's league, but probably would end up being his stepmother.

"I never found out how long they were together, but within months they'd called off the wedding. Or rather Loki did and," Sif drew in a heavy breath, unwilling to meet Tony's eyes. "Well, he said not so long ago it was because of me."

"So he's been harboring feelings for you for years." Tony stated dully.

"I'm with Thor and I have been for four years!"

"So I gather," he downed the rest of his coffee, uncaring that it burned like hell, and took him several moments to speak again. "But the question is do you have feelings for Loki? And would you be willing to leave Thor for Loki and start a whirlwind affair with him instead."

Sif shot him a disbelieving look, which seemed to speak volumes. Clearly if she had any feelings for Loki like he did for her, then she wouldn't have appeared as if Tony asked her if she ever shot a man just to see him die.

"Absolutely not," She declared with an edge of indignation to her voice. "I don't have any feelings towards Loki whatsoever!"

Despite knowing it was utterly wrong to find satisfaction in that statement, Tony really couldn't help it. The possessive side of him was practically doing backflips, knowing that Loki's feelings were one-sided; although it really didn't mean that gave Tony a chance either.

Tony made a noise of understanding, which quieted down the potential rant Sif might have gone onto. Instead of argue about what she exclaimed, they sat in silence but a peaceable sort of silence compared to the uncomfortable ones that they'd been forced to sit through while in Thor and Loki's presence.

Sif returned her gaze to the window and the busy street outside, while Tony started to write further. He only paused again, once something caught his attention; a rambunctious laugh that was strangely familiar. Slowly raising his head, he peered around the restaurant, which was almost entirely empty before his eyes found the source of the ongoing laughter and schmoozing.

Something akin to horror scratched its way up his throat, at the dawning realization that he was actually staring at Obadiah Stane in a three piece suit, with several likeminded people in his company. It was inconceivable, for one, that Obie would have brought any of his business associates to a twenty-four restaurant when they could have been dining in one of the city's finest culinary establishments; not to mention he didn't even know why Obie was in D. C. in the first place.

His eyes shot from Obie towards Sif, then Obie again. So far neither was aware of the other; but more importantly Obie hadn't seen him, since he was charming the pants off of his business associates. But soon enough they'd have to leave the restaurant, and it looked like Obie was more than happy to stand next to the cashier in the front and talk for hours; which was atypical Obie behavior.

Tony shut his notepad, feeling a prickle of panic on the back of his neck. Normally, he wouldn't care what Obie thought of him, since he was only his father's business partner. But he feared if Obie was here then Howard wasn't that far away; and Howard was someone to be concerned about.

Another peal of laughter echoed off the restaurant's walls, and drew Sif to attention. She peered towards Obie and his cronies, before looking to Tony. Luckily he hadn't been in the midst of eyeing Obie at the same time; since he was pretty sure that anyone could recognize his panic then.

"We should probably head back now, daddy-o." Sif said, briefly distracting him; after all, he couldn't remember the last time she referred to him by the peculiar nickname she'd given him.

Relief washed over him, only realizing at that moment how stressed he was about the demise of his friendship with Sif. She had been his anchor throughout the past few months, and despite their unpleasantness when it involved Amora and their conversation about Loki and Heimdall, they'd been pretty solid otherwise. And he was happy that they managed to get back to that point, especially before she left back to England.

"Let's give it a few minutes." Tony responded after a few moments, slyly looking towards Obie who was rooted to the spot still.

"Trust me, I've enjoyed being away from everyone; but who knows if they've killed one another already. Or in Fandral's case, accidentally suffocated in a sea of band sluts," Sif climbed to her feet. "We have a few days of travel to go, you know. So it's better not to keep them waiting."

Reluctantly Tony followed suit, wondering if it was even possible to go unnoticed by Obie. After all, he was Baby Howard and since he'd grown a moustache-goatee combo, well the probability that he looked like Howard's clone was, no doubt, staggering.

Sif led the way towards the door, weaving in between unoccupied tables with the grace of a ballerina; and of course some lecherous old man would be the first to notice it. One of Obie's associates jerked around to stare at Sif appreciatively, before his eyes flickered onto Tony and realization seemed to come to life on his face.

Baby Howard, indeed.

Like clockwork, Obie turned and spotted Tony right away. It took only half a beat before, Obie was advancing towards them, which forced Sif to halt in her tracks. She looked both confused and affronted, but relaxed once Obie bypassed her and went directly for him instead.

"Baby Howard," Obie greeted him, opening his arms, and scooping him into a painful bear hug. "What in god's green earth are you doing in D. C.?"

"Road trip, remember?" Tony managed to say, since Obie was trying to take his life via embrace; but luckily for him, he was finally released only to be inspected from head to toe soon thereafter.

"Dear god, the likeness is uncanny!"

"Obie, what are you doing here?"

"I had some business to take care of, and well we wanted some good 'ol normal people food. None of that fancy shit we always eat." Obie patted him on the shoulder, before turning to gaze at Sif. "Wow, you've got Howard's eye for the ladies too."

"Obie," Tony tried to sound authoritative to no avail.

"Obadiah Stane, Stark Industries," Obie introduced himself, like he always introduced himself; before extending his hand to Sif.

Automatically Sif clutched his hand and shook it, although she looked suddenly bewildered. No doubt because Obie, the idiot, introduced himself as if he were at a cocktail soiree instead of in a dingy restaurant and talking to a nineteen year old girl in a pair of denim shorts and cowboy boots.

But even more than that, Tony saw a flash of recognition on her face. Stark Industries was the premiere weapons manufacturer not only in America, but a good portion of Europe too. There were half a dozen offices and laboratories across the pond; two of the biggest ones were in England and Germany respectively.

"Stark Industries," Sif repeated, still looking befuddled.

"Tony," Obie released his grip on Sif's hand, before shooting him a disapproving look his way. "You haven't told your girlfriend here, that you are the prince in waiting of Stark Industries?"

"If Howard died today, you'd be CEO of the company not me." Tony blurted out, wishing instead that he deflected the question. "But we have to get going now."

"Where are you going next, New York City?" Obie wondered and by the look on Tony's face, he must have given it away. "Well, I won't hold you back; I do have a group of business types to entertain. But I'll be sure to tell your father you'll be heading his way. He did just get back from France yesterday."

Dread seeped into every part of Tony's body, although he managed to smother enough to bid Obie an abrupt goodbye. He grabbed onto Sif's hand and practically dragged her towards the door and right out into the bustling city street outside; before Obie could say anything else.

Tony's heart was in his throat still, as they hurried up the street and back towards where the tour bus had been parked. It was only a few blocks away, but Tony didn't feel safe taking a leisurely walk; not when Obie could come back and suggest he personally take Tony to Howard.

They were halfway to the bus, by the time Tony slowed his pace; but he was still walking far faster than he normally would have been. For whatever reason, the idea of being caught on tour with a rock band by his father was more terrifying than going home and back to his drunken mother.

"So when were you going to tell me, or anyone else for that matter, that you are a millionaire's son?" Sif suddenly asked, but there wasn't any accusations to it just curiosity; a lot of curiosity.

"I never would have." He admitted tersely. "Because he's barely been a father to me anyway; not when he left me to scrape by, by myself with a crazy alcoholic for a mother,"

Thankfully the sight of the tour bus in the distance was enough of a reason to silence anymore burning questions from Sif. And he'd never been happier, felt like he was going home even, by seeing Loki crouched down beside the bus with a cigarette between his fingers; and that was a terrifying thought, even more so than Howard finding him. But he still felt strangely safe, as if somehow Loki could protect him.


	31. Chapter Thirty :: Newark

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have to apologize for the delay; I was hitting a roadblock on how to continue this chapter. And as always it didn't come out how I thought it would, so now I have to figure out how to resolve the situation in the coming chapters.
> 
> Anyway I listened to David Bowie's "Andy Warhol" while writing this; it doesn't have any direct meaning to the chapter, but it helped me write nonetheless.

* * *

 

 

**Chapter Thirty :: Newark**

 

 

* * *

 

It had to be a dream, a stupid one, but a dream nonetheless. Tony stared at the stage and the two occupants that sat cross-legged across from one another. Both had guitars in their laps, harmonizing with one another, and singing in a language that most definitely was not English.

Considering not even a week earlier, they had been fighting like cats and dogs, this was unexpected. Especially since Loki still carried those awful black eyes that made him look like a demented raccoon; and yet somehow the Odinson brothers were alone with one another, without any homicidal tendency in mind.

Tony watched them closely, waiting for the other shoe to fall; it had to, really. After observing their eroded relationship for weeks on end, there wasn't any possible explanation for why they were playing nice, and without anyone to referee it too. But here they were, singing to one another, as if they were the best of friends; as if they weren't fighting over finances and a girl. They were actually acting like _brothers_.

It was beyond Tony's comprehension; he had been convinced that they were going to kill one another before they even made it to New York. Thor had beaten Loki to the point where he'd been taken to the hospital; while Loki had done everything in his power to provoke Thor into doing so. They weren't supposed to be chummy with one another; not after the bullshit they'd put each other through; not to mention everyone who'd been in close proximity.

"They always do this." Volstagg abruptly sidled up beside him, carrying a beer bottle in one hand.

"You'd be surprised by how much they do this." Fandral followed Volstagg's lead; standing on Tony's other side. "The bloody wankers hate each other with a fiery passion, and then practically blow one another thereafter."

"You've got to be kidding me." Tony looked between Volstagg and Fandral, gauging their reactions.

"To be honest, it's never gotten this bad. They've gotten into scuffles before, but never to the point where Loki had to go to hospital." Volstagg explained, before taking a swig from his beer bottle. "Then again Loki hasn't been in this foul of a mood before either. It's like the bastard's been possessed since the gig in Berlin."

Tony returned his gaze to the stage, where Thor and Loki had stopped their musical powwow, and now were immersed in conversation in the same language they'd been singing in. But it became fairly apparent that it was an unpleasant conversation, because both of them had matching scowls on their faces.

"God, I hate when they go back and forth in Norwegian." Fandral rolled his eyes. "You should have seen the bastards when we touched down in Oslo; acted like bloody royalty because they could understand the locals."

The conversation appeared to be escalating, poorly at that. Tony couldn't help but watch it, almost as if it were a horrible car collision; which wasn't that far off the mark. Neither Volstagg nor Fandral deemed it worthwhile to intervene though, as Thor raised his voice and jutted out a finger to point at Loki, who only sneered in return.

"Come on mate, no use on watching them anymore." Volstagg patted him on the shoulder. "Might as well bang your head against that wall over there instead,"

Before Tony could respond, both Volstagg and Fandral steered him away from the stage and towards the exit. Loki raised his voice to an ear-splitting decibel as they stepped out the door; but he really didn't want to stick around and see the fallout. He could only imagine that things might end physically with Loki the one suffering the brute of it.

It was almost a relief to be away from it temporarily; he just hoped it wouldn't spill out behind the theater where the roadies were lounging around, sharing cigarettes and beers. And that's where Volstagg and Fandral directed him; they exchanged greetings, before forcing Tony to sit on the asphalt in the semi-circle that they'd created.

"Say hello to Starky." Fandral announced to the roadies, accepting the cigarette that had been passed his way. "We saved him from the prima donnas inside the theater. Then again, he's been targeted by the dark lord already."

The roadies guffawed, which seemed to suggest that there were inside jokes Tony hadn't been privy to. However, he hadn't spent much time with the roadies; and Loki probably hadn't spent any time with them whatsoever. But the bastard hardly spent time with anyone, unless it meant invoking their ire.

"I pity you, buddy." One of the roadies, whose name was either Bill or Bob, said. "That one is fucking off his rocker. And trust me; I've been doing shit like this for years."

"Beyond cuckoo," another roadie added, making a grab for a beer can from the crate beside his feet. "I'm just glad we just have New York left; don't think I could stand being around that fag anymore."

Tony stiffened, stunned by the insult. It wasn't to say he thought anyone would have been open-minded when it came to homosexual relationships; regardless of the age of free love and all that hippie bullshit, people had a tendency to lose any tolerance when it came to homosexuality.

What shocked him, more than the insult, was that the fact people _knew_ about Loki's tendencies. Or at least they spotted his frequent need to touch or be touched by men. He hadn't shied away from allowing either Heimdall or Phil manhandle him in front of anyone and everyone; but he also had been high and kissed Fandral full-on in Seattle.

"I'd stay away from him." Another roadie warned. "He'll probably try to bend you over and fuck you good. Maybe beg you to do it to him even; either way, the guy's bad news. And it definitely ain't some kind of European thing, since everyone else is cool."

Tony furrowed his brow, reaching for the beer offered to him. He had heard many opinions on Loki throughout the duration of time on tour with the band, but none had been as ugly as the ones the roadies harbored for him. Every fan had praised him, loved him unconditionally. The band itself had a love-hate relationship with him, but it had more to do with his behavior towards them compared to his sexuality; which was still undetermined.

Something gnarled and twisted began to form inside of him; he was angry, pissed off even, that someone would base their opinion on Loki because of what they deemed to be his sexual preference. And maybe Tony was angry for himself too; angry because if anyone knew about his feelings towards Loki, they'd treat him with as much hostility as they did Loki.

Howard would kill him; and that had been plaguing his mind since seeing Obie in D. C. Because there were very few things Daddy Stark would put up with, and having his only son, heir to the throne, be a flaming pansy (his words, no doubt), was not one of them.

Tony popped open the can of beer, and chugged a good portion of it. The conversation continued around him, hopping from one topic to another. There was talk about the groupies and Fandral's many conquests that had gone under the radar. Then they moved onto the stellar shows of late, before coming full circle and discussing Loki once more.

"The bloke isn't that bad." Volstagg declared, motioning for another beer. "If it wasn't for him, we wouldn't be touring stateside after all."

"Yes, yes that might be true," Fandral raised his hand, quieting the rambunctious talk around him. "However, he isn't helping anyone with that god awful attitude of his. He might end up dead soon enough, and you and I both know that."

"Well, I imagine he won't make it at this rate." Volstagg shrugged almost sadly.

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Tony blurted out, spitting out some froth from his beer.

Fandral and Volstagg looked at one another, having a silent conversation; before Fandral glimpsed at Tony with a kindly smile. But Tony interpreted it as the type of smile an adult gave to a child, who'd been told their dog was sent to a farm in the country to live, rather than explain how it had been struck by a car and was now six feet under in the back yard.

"It's speculation, Starky." Fandral explained slowly. "If the bloke doesn't clean up his act soon enough, he'll end up in a gutter somewhere."

"Loki hasn't eaten in a while. But quite honestly, it's his provocation of others that'll end him." Volstagg stroked his ginger beard thoughtfully. "He's playing with fire, that one. Going to try and seduce the wrong sort and get killed."

"Might be better off," one of the roadies added.

Before Tony even realized what he was doing, he threw his beer at the bastard. He hit him in the chest and sent beer flying every which way. Several of the other roadies leapt to their feet, trying to futilely get away from the spray; but the one who mouthed off couldn't get away.

The next few moments went by in a flash; a furious tangent of action, that Tony found himself on the other end of. The roadie, who he had struck with his beer can, suddenly leapt across the semi-circle and threw himself at Tony, and sent him flying onto his back. The air was knocked out of him, before he was struck in the face with enough force to make him see stars.

All hell broke loose then, although Tony was in too much pain to try and figure out what was going on around him. The only thing he knew for certain was that the roadie on top of him was trying to readjust his face, and that he tasted blood, a lot of blood.

Tony attempted to lift his arms, throw a punch; but when that failed, he tried to shield himself from the continual strikes that were bringing him more and more pain. But what was even worse than the blows were the sudden, hateful words that were spewing out of the guy's mouth; sick and twisted things that Tony had never been called before, and yet they were things that undoubtedly people would call him for his attraction to Loki.

Unsuccessfully, he tried to upend the guy but he was too big and weighed too much. He kicked out his legs as if that would help in any way; except it didn't, and he swore he was close to fainting due to the ongoing pain. But abruptly the fists flying at his face stopped; it happened as quickly as the original attack began, although the sound of something cracking, followed by an agonized shriek was the only difference.

The guy fell off of him unceremoniously, into a screaming heap; which only escalated further by the sounds of it. Tony blearily opened his eyes, moaning in pain, only to see a set of pointed black boots, kicking at the guy violently. But people were trying to intervene, ripping away whoever it was that was kicking the guy. And then Tony's vision was filled with a furious Loki, who was scooping him up into his arms.

Tony cried out in pain, trying very hard not to curse a blue streak. The only consolation, beyond the insufferable pain, was that he was fairly certain nothing had been broken during the fray. Or so he hoped anyway as Loki cradled him against his chest, and whisked him away towards the tour bus.

Yells erupted all around him, but the majority was just incoherent babble to Tony. He felt the rumble in Loki's chest, as he shouted out something angry and obscene; which would have made Tony smile if his face wasn't in so much pain.

"You're all right, just a bit of blood is all." Loki whispered to him eventually, as comforting as someone like him could get. "I'll kill that fucking wanker; I'll break every single bone in his body. Mark my word."

"God, I love you." Tony croaked out, only to regret it soon thereafter.

Loki hushed him, but by no means harshly. It almost felt as if he was a five year old, being saved from the pavement after falling off his bicycle. And in a way that seemed to fuel the pain; because neither of his parents had actively saved him from any sort of childhood injury. No one had stepped in when he hurt himself while fiddling around with his father's tools in his lab. Or even when he blew up the science lab two years ago; which could have given him more than a few cuts and bruises. It could have easily killed him.

His throat tightened, which he knew was the telltale sign that he might break down and cry. He tried to control himself, because he would definitely regret blubbering like a baby, more so than being swept off his feet by Loki in the first place.

Despite his best efforts, his resolve crumbled in between the reassuring words Loki was whispering every few moments, and the realization that no one had done anything similarly for him before in his life; add the pain on top of it all, and he couldn't hold it together anymore.

Sobs wracked through his body without his consent, which caused Loki to halt. He didn't even know where they were, if they made it into the tour bus or not; but he was terrified for a split-second that Loki was going to drop him to the ground, fueled by the fact he was lowering himself into a crouch.

Tony was waiting for the impact, and yet it never came; instead Loki gently wrapped his arms around him, somehow managing to balance his quivering body across his thighs, and held him close. And before he knew it, Tony was close to hysterics, gripping onto Loki's shirt and crying like he'd never cried before.

Somewhere amid his sobbing fit, he heard Loki starting to sing in that foreign language, Norwegian as Fandral pointed out, and what could only be a lullaby of some sort. Tony held tighter onto Loki, pathetically crying still, but it was the first time in a very long time that he felt safe. He was safe with Loki of all people and that made him cry even more; because he only had a few days left with him, before he slipped out of his life forever. And there was nothing he could do about it.


	32. Chapter Thirty-one :: Newark II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So we're dwindling down to the last chapters; New York, I imagine, might be a bit longer than some of the other chapters. I hope to at least get out one by tomorrow (if not both of them), and the epilogue should be coming out on Wednesday. But we'll see how that works out.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter; I've been waiting for ages to bring in this character, so I'm interested in seeing the reception. And I listened to David Bowie's "Five Years" quite a bit; albeit, _the Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars_ didn't come out until 1973. So you can kind of imagine what's going to be the soundtrack for the sequel. ;)

* * *

 

 

**Chapter Thirty-one :: Newark II**

 

 

* * *

 

Tony's face hurt worse than it looked; the only discernible damage was his awful split lip, but aside from that he was surprisingly okay. Or in the very least, the bruises hadn't come to fruition yet; and he might very well look as demented and unhinged as Loki did now.

The worse thing that had come from Tony's fight with the unnamed roadie, whose nose had been shattered by Loki's boot to the face, was the emotional trauma that followed. Not only had it been proven that Tony had never been in a physical altercation beforehand; but he also admitted his love for Loki and sobbed pathetically in his lap. Two things he could readily admit that he regretted.

Thankfully Loki hadn't commented on it; he couldn't really with Phil badgering him about the roadie and sending Sif to tend to Tony's wounds. They'd been separated ever since then; and well Tony didn't mind too much. He needed those few hours of sleep, and by the time he came to he was clambering into the theater by himself.

The crowd was as eclectic as the one in Pittsburgh had been; it was loud and jovial too. Joints were already being passed from hand to hand; and Tony gladly took one that was going by just so he wouldn't feel the god awful pain anymore.

Soon enough he was on a decent high, which dampened the pain well enough. So when another opportunity presented itself for a hit, Tony was ready to receive it. The guy who passed it was strangely entrancing, since he looked so out of place in the crowd. He didn't look like the hardcore, stoner rock 'n' roll fan; nor did he appear to just be a stoner in general. He looked clean-cut, military-like even; the guy he was with too, looked like the army shoved a stick directly up his ass to keep him at attention.

"You don't look like the run of the mill fan." Tony said, while taking the joint and puffing on it slowly.

"Well, why don't you tell me what the stereotypical fan looks like?" The guy smirked.

"Look around you, man." Tony passed the joint, before motioning at the people around them. "You look way too clean-cut for these slobs; myself including, of course. Excuse the face."

"Oh I see them, all right." The guy laughed and extended his hand to him. "James Barnes, but everyone calls me Bucky."

"Tony Stark." He took Bucky's hand and shook it; only then did he notice the dog tags around his neck. "So you are a military man, after all. That would explain the clean-cut thing."

Bucky released his hand, reaching for his dog tags, and toying with them briefly. There were several moments of silence, which would have probably been uncomfortable had Tony been able to feel it properly. But the weed was doing its job and he was feeling good with all things considering.

"Yeah, well I just got back." Bucky tilted his head to indicate his friend. "My friend Steve luckily didn't have to see 'Nam; but couldn't be happier to be on American soil again. You know, except when I'm wearing my uniform."

There was something in Bucky's voice that sobered Tony up a bit. Of course, anyone who had access to a television or a newspaper knew how people oftentimes reacted to the soldiers coming back from the war. And a lot of those reactions were not very pleasant either; hell, some people had been downright nasty.

Tony had heard a slew of awful things, but he never actually met someone on the receiving end of it; hadn't even met anyone who'd been in Vietnam period. After all, being the only son of a weapons manufacturer, he'd never have to see a warzone; not when his intellect could be used elsewhere, maybe to design weapons himself if the need arose.

"It wasn't like I enlisted." Bucky finally spoke, somehow maintaining his smile. "I was an orphan from Brooklyn and my number got called in '69. And it was just my luck I got shipped on over there right off the bat; got to stay there for almost two years."

"Son of a bitch," Tony murmured.

"I fought for my country, did my job, you know. And when I got home, the brainy types, activists as they call themselves, spat on me. I got spit on for doing what my country asked me to do; while all the fat-cats in Washington fill their pockets. Didn't mean a damn thing that I put my ass on the line; my buddies did too. Didn't even matter that so many of them have already died either,"

Bucky's friend, Steve, reached over and squeezed his shoulder; but he brushed it off with a bigger smile like it really wasn't that big of a deal. And Tony had to figure, Bucky probably wouldn't have said any of that normally. It was probably the weed talking and straight laced Steve probably knew it too.

What Tony hadn't expected from hearing what Bucky had to say, was to feel sudden and unshakeable guilt. Guilt because Stark Industries was cashing in, lining its pockets, by the war efforts. Good 'ol Howard and Obadiah were riding the cash flow, more so than they normally were because of the war; and it was the same cash flow that paid for Tony's sweet '69 Impala, and paid for the replacement science lab that he blew up.

Soldiers died every day and Stark Industries reaped the benefits. Then there were soldiers like Bucky and Steve who came home to unjustifiable hate, for doing what they were told. And Tony, well he sat around pretty, blowing shit up and smoking weed by the pounds; never to see a warzone because Daddy Stark kept him safe.

"You know what?" Tony licked his lips, drawing Bucky's attention. "Thank you; that might mean jack shit to you, but thank you. For everything you've done, man."

"Thank you?" Bucky repeated. "You're thanking me?"

"Yeah, I mean you did your job like you said. And fuck all those hippie intellectual types, if they don't realize it. Thank you for what you've done." Tony pointed at him, although he started to have second thoughts due to Bucky's prolonged silence.

For a split-second, Tony imagined Bucky lurching at him and beating the living shit out of him; maybe he'd finish off the job the roadie hadn't gotten the opportunity to. He was convinced of it more so, once Bucky threw his head back and laughed loudly, almost madly.

"That is the first time anyone's ever thanked me." Bucky quieted his laughter, before patting Tony on the back. "Thanks man; can't say it makes up for everything, but at least I know some people actually appreciate it."

"Are you a big fan of the band's?" Tony asked.

"I am actually; they played their record a lot on the radio. One of the deejays was a guy from jolly 'ol England; played the shit out of some of the obscure bands out there. One just happened to be Odin's Sons; and once I heard they were playing Newark, I forced Stevie boy to drive me over, since the gig in New York is already sold out."

"Well, how about I show you the extent my appreciation." Tony leaned inward, just in case a nosy fan was eavesdropping. "I'm actually with the band, so I can take you backstage and you can meet them."

"No joke?"

"Scout's honor," he made the scout's salute, which only caused Bucky to grin wider than before.

They didn't get the chance to discuss any details though; the opening band was already walking onto the stage to play their god awful set again. The only saving grace was that Tony was already stoned, too stoned to mind some psychedelic bullshit. Then again, awful music had a way of fucking with his high; although he figured he could always find another joint floating around anyway.

Thankfully both he and the crowd were spared from a prolonged set; and were instead gifted with an excellent set from Odin's Sons. But even excellent wasn't a precise description of it; Tony was almost sick of using the word legendary so much, when it came to the band and Loki alike; albeit that was the only way to properly get their performance across correctly.

Loki was spot-on, vocally powerful, and sharp as a tack. Everything that he did on stage was on point; admittedly Tony fell in love a little more, even though he was still reeling from what happened that afternoon, and how gentle and patient Loki had been with him. And since he was good and stoned, he could reflect on it without any embarrassment whatsoever.

By the time the show had ended, Tony wanted nothing more than to track down Loki, and show him his appreciation in the physical sense. He probably would have had the gall too, had he not remembered the promise he made to Bucky, who'd stood beside him expectantly; and Tony wasn't about to break a promise to the guy either.

Motioning towards the backstage exit, Tony led the way through the crowd that was slowly dispersing. Many were excitedly talking amongst themselves about how amazing the show had been, and how Loki had gone above and beyond their expectations. Despite the fact he still looked like Satan's raccoon, girls were swooning over him anyway.

No one was standing guard by the door, which made it easy to slip over the railing. If it had been any of the roadies standing watch, there was a good chance that Tony would have been denied immediately. After all, there was now a newly developed mentality about them against the band; since Loki had shattered the guy's face that'd attacked him.

But even if he was faced with one of the roadies, he might have had a better chance at survival with Bucky and Steve with him. Steve particularly was built and towered over both of them; hell, he looked about Thor's size and probably could go toe-to-toe with the guy if he was provoked to do so.

Once they were outside the theater, Tony made a beeline for the tour bus. The band were congregated outside of it, Loki included. Loki was crouched down with a cigarette between his teeth, and funnily enough his dainty teacup and saucer clutched in his hand. His oxford was completely open and his usually slicked back hair was a mess, the way Tony personally liked it.

Thor was in the midst of some story, motioning widely with both hands, and captivating his audience of Volstagg, Fandral, and Gary the bus driver. Sif's whereabouts were uncertain at the moment; although Tony had heard before he headed into the theater that she had a headache, probably induced by all the drama that had transpired that evening; and the drama that had followed them throughout the past few weeks.

As Tony approached, Thor fell quiet before giving him a wide smile. The others regarded him too, albeit Loki seemed to be distracted by the asphalt between his boots; or maybe he saw blood spatter from when he kicked the roadie in the face on the leather.

"You have some nerve, my friend." Thor greeted, laying a heavy hand on his shoulder. "Not many people your size would have dared to do that."

"It was really stupid actually." He admitted, before quickly changing the subject. "But let's talk about that later. I wanted you to meet some pretty cool guys I met in the crowd; this is Steve and this is Bucky."

The band greeted Bucky and Steve warmly, which seemed to be one of their many talents. Loki was the only one who remained in his spot, but even he rose from the ground after a few moments, tossing his cigarette aside in order to say hello properly. And that's when Tony suddenly noticed how Loki's eyes zeroed in on Bucky's dog tags and stared for an inordinate period time; as if he might actually go on an anti-war rant.

Tony wasn't privy to Loki's political views; then again he didn't even know if Loki actually ate, let alone if he was anti-war fanatic. And well, if he panicked a little by the potential rant he could go on, he figured it was more than justified.

"And I'm sure you know who this is." Tony blurted out, once Bucky made eye contact with Loki.

"Loki Odinson, of course," Bucky affirmed.

Loki's eyes flickered from Bucky's dog tags to his face, but Tony couldn't read what he might be thinking at all. It was only when Loki smiled slowly that he felt relieved; or marginally at least because Loki could strike at any moment, unprovoked no less.

"Welcome home, Sergeant Barnes." Loki uttered coolly, eyeing Bucky from head to toe.

"I'm happy to be back." Bucky returned, smiling in a way that could only be dubbed as seductive.

Then it hit Tony like a ton of bricks, what he was actually witnessing at that very moment. Loki and Bucky were practically eye fucking right in front of him. Had no one else been around, Tony suspected Loki might have devoured Bucky whole; dropped to his knees and choked himself to death on Bucky's cock even.

No one seemed to be the wiser though; Thor, Volstagg, and Fandral were immersed in conversation with Steve, whom seemed pleased as punch to finally get a chance to talk without Bucky dominating the conversation.

"Will you be at the New York gig?" Loki finally spoke again, eyes pinned onto the front of Bucky's trousers and hardly appearing ashamed of it.

"See that's the thing; I wanted to go, but the show is sold the fuck out. And I know why, you were incredible." Bucky drew Loki's eyes back to his, for another round of hardcore eye sex.

"I believe we can make an arrangement though." Loki smirked. "Have a word with Phil over there. Tell him I would like it very much if he could get you and your friend into the gig in New York."

"I'll do that right now; so I hope to see you around, Loki Odinson." Bucky made a show of biting his bottom lip and backing away so he wouldn't have to break eye contact.

"Oh, I do hope so, Sergeant Barnes." Loki returned.

Once Bucky turned away, Tony whirled on Loki and grabbed him by his arm. Before he could say something nasty, undoubtedly, Tony yanked him around the bus. He knew if he even attempted to go inside that he might find himself face to face with Sif; and he really did not to deal with that at the moment. Not when he wanted to kill Loki.

Fueled by a Molotov cocktail of emotions, Tony slammed Loki's against the tour bus; and it was lucky for him that his tea cup was empty, or he might have a concussion this time around than just a busted lip and a few bumps and forming bruises.

For the briefest of moments, Loki looked surprised by what he'd done; but as always, the emotion seeped from his expression, leaving behind a blank mask in its place. He did, however, quirk an eyebrow when Tony released him, and might have looked even the slightest bit concern when he noticed (at the same time as Tony) that Tony's hands were shaking.

"Why do you have to fucking do that?" Tony bellowed, fisting his hands into his hair, in order hide them. "I know you don't give a shit about me, but could you _not_ practically eye fuck someone else in front of me?! Is that too much to ask from you?!"

Loki raised his free hand, in a way that reminded Tony of a person who didn't want to scare a baby animal away; before he crouched down and deposited his teacup and saucer onto the ground. Tony watched Loki as he rose again and took several steps towards him. But he wasn't spooked and he'd be damned if he backed away and let Loki have the upper hand as he always did.

"It won't do you any good to get hysterical." Loki said quietly.

"Oh, fuck you! Fuck you to hell and back, you narcissist motherfucker!" Tony shouted. "I'm sick of your mind games! One minute you practically blow me, and then you ignore me! And then you decide to be the hero and save me from an ass beating that I got because I decided to defend you! And not even five hours pass before you're salivating all over Sergeant Bucky Barnes!"

"You're projecting," Loki returned. "That is your interpretation of what happened."

"I'm not fucking blind, Loki!" He screamed it so loudly, he was sure the whole neighborhood probably heard him.

That stopped Loki in his tracks, before he shook his head with what could only be described as self-deprecation. And it was that moment, Tony realized he never hated and loved someone simultaneously so much in his entire life; and it made him sick.

It was toxic and unfair. Every time he thought he figured out Loki to a degree, the other shoe dropped and he was back at square one. No matter how safe he felt in his arms, how happy it made him to be in his presence; he couldn't do it anymore. The emotional turmoil was too great; Loki was too much for him to handle.

"You're right." Loki finally spoke again, holding out his hand to him. "And I'm sorry, terribly sorry."

"You being sorry, that's fucking laughable!" Tony barked out harshly.

"Anthony, come here."

"It's because you want me to shut up, isn't it? It's because you can't handling the truth about yourself. That you're some big fuck-up, who plays mind games with everyone else because you're so emotionally stunted."

"Oh, I am aware." Loki said somberly, still holding out his hand. "Very much aware of what you said and then some; but I still want you to come here."

Tony didn't take his hand; instead he crossed the distance between them, and glowered up at him like an incensed child. He wanted to pummel Loki's chest with his fists, maybe knee him in the groin for good measures; but his emotions got the best of him, and he grabbed onto either side of Loki's opened shirt and buried his face into his chest.

Loki's skin was cool and dry, and smelled faintly of cigarettes, tea, sweat, and cologne. The cologne was particularly overwhelming and yet it was just how Loki always wore it; which by proxy made it perfect. And Tony hated him for it; hated him for turning his world upside, and turning him into a feeling entity. He hated him for that most of all.

Eventually Loki's arms wrapped around him, followed by his chin settling against Tony's unruly mop of hair. Loki rubbed his back in small soothing, circles as if that could make up for what he'd done. And yet, it did to some degree; it eased the anger he felt momentarily, which should have angered him further but it only did the exact opposite.

He eased into Loki, resting his weight against him. He felt suddenly exhausted and the only thing he wanted at that moment was to stay pressed against Loki, until everything started to make sense again.

"Five years," Loki murmured softly. "We've got five years."

Tony shut his eyes and despite the ambiguous statement Loki had made, he understood it immediately. And he hated him for it.


	33. Chapter Thirty-two :: New York City

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I attempted to write this quicker than I did, but clearly it didn't work out. I've been having a bad couple of weeks and there was just a lot of stress recently, while I was working on this. I just hope it isn't too bad.
> 
> On the bright side (probably not, but oh well), it's my birthday! And I am determined to get the both the next chapter and the epilogue out today; since that would make me happy. :DD
> 
> And I have to say I got a lovely sketch of Loki from llykej; I cannot stop looking at it. I absolutely adore it; thank you so much!

* * *

 

**Chapter Thirty-two :: New York City**

 

* * *

 

Waking up in New York City was unlike any other experience Tony had ever had before. It felt like coming home and technically it was; his most formidable of years had been spent on the east coast, and it was only when he was twelve that the move to California had become permanent.

The sounds of oncoming traffic, the symphony of horns and roaring motors, and the thousands and thousands of voices from pedestrians storming the sidewalks was oddly comforting. Tony blearily opened his eyes to semi-dark motel room, before burying his face in between Loki's shoulder blades again, and inhaling deeply.

His arms looped sloppily around his waist, and he enjoyed the moment of being allowed to be so close to him. After the unfortunate Bucky situation, Loki had been uncharacteristically willing to do whatever needed to be done to appease Tony; and his one and only stipulation had been that he was permitted to bunk with him whenever they made it to the city.

Of course Tony hadn't expected that bunking with one another would turn sexual. He had hoped like any teenage boy would, even had a private moment in the shower; where he envisioned Loki was too consumed by building lust that he just stopped caring about Tony's age, and demanded him to fuck him as hard as humanly possible.

That, however, did not come to pass. Loki had showered immediately on getting into the room, before he smoked a cigarette and actually ate something that Phil dropped off; which was fascinating to watch, mostly because it was a bag of gummy bears, and yet even then Loki only had a handful at most; before he eventually collapsed on the bed, once he stripped off the duvet and entwined himself into the sheets.

Tony hadn't asked for permission, and Loki didn't seem to care, to climb onto the bed with him and slowly but surely broach the distance between them. So it wasn't that surprising that Tony ended up spooning Loki, whom seemed to still be asleep and none the wiser to the position he was in.

Then again the bastard owed him; not simply because of his blatant flirtation with Bucky, or even the weeks of emotional turmoil either. Tony had been affected extremely by that statement about waiting five years. While Loki hadn't explicitly said it, Tony got the jest of his remark; and it was fairly clear - Loki was telling him to wait for five years. And maybe, just maybe, once those five years were over that they could be together.

In five years Tony would be twenty-two; he'd probably already be a college graduate, maybe even be working towards a master's degree, maybe two. He might even become a full-time reporter for Rolling Stone; could even go on tour with some of the world's biggest acts. And there was a great possibility that Tony might not even want Loki anymore.

Twenty-two year old Tony Stark might even laugh at seventeen year old Tony Stark; as much as seventeen year old Tony Stark laughed at twelve year old Tony Stark. Maybe his attraction to Loki was only a passing phase, and once he was out of his presence, Tony would revert back to being a wannabe ladies' man.

Not to mention thirty-two year old Loki Odinson could be so many things beyond his imagination too. The probability that Loki would remain single for five years was almost laughable; and if his performance during the New York gig was as spot-on as the last ones had been, his star was on the rise which meant primo pussy; super models, actresses, fellow singers too.

So maybe the promise was just a cop out on Loki's behalf. It was easy to appease someone with hope; but Tony wasn't some doe-eyed idiot, he knew reality far too well to ignore it. And the reality of the matter was that Tony probably wouldn't want Loki in five years. Loki might be married by then; broke and destitute, potentially dead if his diet consisted only of gummy bears, cigarettes, and tea even.

That was a painful thought, unbearable even. Tony tightened his hold around Loki's waist, but slowly loosened it as Loki squirmed from the pressure. Unconsciously Tony grazed one of his hands down the planes of Loki's stomach, pausing at the top of his trousers, before the suicidal part of him tried to wriggle a finger underneath the waistband.

"Don't even think about it." Loki mumbled drowsily.

"Sorry." Tony whispered against his skin, although he had yet to extract his finger that slipped in to the first joint.

"I said you could spend the night with me. Never did I say you may touch me to your heart's content; you're very lucky I haven't tossed you out the window." Loki continued but sounded far too tired to be menacing.

"Sorry." Tony repeated, taking it upon himself to press a chaste kiss between his shoulder blades. "Sorry for that too,"

Loki made a noise, which could only be described exasperation. He, however, remained in place aside from reaching for a pillow that was pressed against the headboard. Tony plastered himself closer to his body, as much as humanly possible; which made it almost impossible, by the noise Loki made, for him to actually retrieve the pillow.

"Has anyone referred to you as clingy before?"

"Not at all; I guess you bring out the worst in me." Tony yawned, before pressing his face back into its previous position; all the while trying to ignore the dawning pain from his previous fight with the roadie.

The drowsy, sleepy feelings he'd been clinging onto for the past few minutes, were now dissipating and he was keenly aware of the pain again. His bottom lip throbbed in time with his heartbeat and there were sharp jolts of pain that originated in both cheeks; but luckily his nose had been spared for the most part.

He suppressed a groan, wishing that he either had a joint or some kind of alcohol to dull the ache. Maybe if he had been bunking with anyone else, he could have found something similarly. But Loki only had a pack of cigarettes and a barely touched bag of gummy bears; two things that weren't going to exactly help him.

However, any relief was pushed to the back of his mind once a loud rapping cut through the peaceable silence. Loki shifted against him again, peering over both his shoulder and Tony's wild and unruly mop of hair. Tony too looked towards the door, which was vibrating by the force of the knocking.

"Phil," Loki supplied, dropping his head onto the mattress. "Let him in, before he wakes everyone up on the bloody floor."

"Demanding," Tony grumbled, before slowly untangling himself from around Loki's body.

The rapping grew louder and more impatient by every passing moment; which inspired Tony to get up and cross the room in record time. The noise was making his head hurt, along with everything else that had been pummeled yesterday afternoon.

Phil, for whatever reason, was overly enthusiastic to see Loki; and by the time Tony opened the door, he was almost certain super manager might run him over to get inside. But Phil wasn't on the other end of the door, and for a few seconds Tony was stumped by who was there. His sleep addled mind wasn't readily processing the sight, until it was far too late.

Howard Stark, CEO of Stark Industries, genius inventor, and winner of lousiest father of the year for seventeen consecutive years, was staring at him with a mixture of surprise and disgust. But the latter won out right away; after all, Tony's hair was shaggy and unkempt and he suspected some bruises began to blossom up across his cheeks. Not to mention he was probably in need of shave too; combined with the fact that Tony slept in his clothes, probably left much to be desired.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Tony blurted out, only to quiet down by Howard lurching forward and grabbing him by the front of his tee-shirt.

"I should ask you the same thing!" Howard barked. "Look at you; you look like a goddamn hippie!"

Tony didn't know precisely how to respond; it was too early for his brain to kick in, and the shock wasn't doing him any favors either. Howard was rattling out something else, undoubtedly insulting and angry; but that was only his default setting when it came to Tony, and it was bearable so long as he kept staring him in the eye and never flinched.

And yet he couldn't help but flinch at the sound of someone approaching from behind him. Loki, of course, wouldn't just sit back and listen to a raving lunatic at his motel room door; especially when he'd been expecting Phil.

Howard paused mid-rant, staring behind Tony, and for the briefest of moments Tony thought he might actually laugh. Howard could take a joke like the best of them; depending on the circumstances. But that was only a brief interlude for something Tony hadn't really expected of him; and just like when the roadie had lunged at him, ready to pounce, Howard shoved him out of the way and into the adjoining wall, which seemed to happen as if in fast forward.

Tony hit the wall hard enough to hurt; he was temporarily dazed, only to snap to attention at Howard's voice yelling the most obscene and hateful things that he could muster. Somehow, despite Loki's superior height, Howard had gotten Loki onto the mattress and his hands were already firmly around his neck.

"I'll fucking kill you, you fucking faggot!" Howard roared, tightening his grip on Loki's neck, and causing his normal pallor to change from pink to red, and slowly to the ugliest plum color to match his raccoon eyes. "Do that to my boy, will you?!"

Dazed, Tony watched the scene unable to process it. Loki was trying vainly to upend Howard, but the bastard was strong; Tony should know, he'd gotten into a physical altercation with him in the past and had lost. And Tony also knew from previous experiences, that Loki could withstand physical attacks but hadn't superior strength like Thor did; which would explain why he couldn't fight Howard off of him.

Without any thought against the contrary, Tony threw himself at Howard. He gripped onto the back of his suit jacket, yanking on it until finally Howard was forced to let go of Loki's neck. That superhero strength, the kind that seemed to reveal itself in dire circumstances, seemed to rear its head again; because Tony somehow managed to pull Howard backwards and completely off of Loki.

They staggered backwards until they collided with a wall; Tony cried out in pain from hitting the corner, but refused to let go of Howard if it meant he'd go after Loki again. Which was probably stupid in retrospect, but Tony would be damned if he allowed his father to hurt Loki any more than he already had.

"Anthony, let go of me right now!" Howard yelled, sounding close to possessed.

"Not until you calm the hell down!" Tony snapped back.

"I'll kill him!"

"Dad, stop it!" He bellowed, surprised by how authoritative he sounded; Howard too seemed shocked, because he stopped his struggle and stared at him like he was some kind of space alien.

They stared at one another for a very long time, probably the longest they ever had in the history of their relationship. Tony's eyes only flickered away, once he noticed Loki roll into a crouch onto the floor; he was wheezing loudly and clearly in pain. But he knew he couldn't do anything, lest Howard realize the extent of what he walked into.

Howard pushed away from Tony, grabbing onto Tony's shoulder bag, which he deposited into an armchair once they'd gotten into the motel room in the wee morning hours. Tony was almost shocked that Howard knew it was his to begin with; but it wasn't the time to bask in his father's observations.

"Put your shoes on. We're leaving now." Howard hissed, leaving no room for argument.

Shakily Tony staggered to the end of the bed, where he stuffed his tennis shoes underneath, but wanting nothing more than to reach out and touch Loki. Loki, who was doubled over, still wheezing with a hand to his throat.

Every fiber of his being wanted to reach out for him, and yet Howard screamed his name so loudly that he snatched up his tennis shoes instead, and hurriedly stepped into them. He knew if he lingered anymore that could potentially end with Loki in a worse condition; so his only option was to follow Howard out of the room, and close to the door behind him.

Tony was almost certain it would be the last time he ever saw Loki again. And god it hurt like nothing else could.

 

* * *

 

Tony was hoarse from his shouting match with Howard. They had thrown nasty insults at one another for what felt like hours; the sort of insults that would make lesser, maybe well-adjusted individuals, cry hysterically. But they were Starks and Starks were a tough breed; a fucked up breed that were capable of being called everything in the English vernacular without shedding a tear.

As to be expected, Howard had accused Tony of being a pansy and a slew of other things; to which Tony responded with the atypical argument of him being a shitty, absentee father whose only priority was himself. It was just the same 'ol song and dance; one Tony hadn't been a part of for several months, but it definitely felt like coming home.

Home meant brutal, soul-shattering fights; it meant having to deal with the alcohol consumption, and the drunken babbles that followed. While Maria Stark was an abusive drunkard, Howard Stark was both abusive and lovable; they interchanged depending on the situation, but for the most part Tony always got laid out by abusive Howie, who wished he was never born.

Tony really wished he hadn't either, especially now. It was the final day that he could have been with Loki, and that was taken away from him by Howard. Howard never explained how he found out about his whereabouts; but the man was a genius, and if he bothered to put together the puzzle's pieces, the answer was pretty obvious.

And it was just like Howard to take his little bit of happiness away. His last day with Loki was cruelly snatched away from him; but what was even worse, was being unaware of how Loki was after he'd been attacked. He looked in a bad way and that scared Tony; scared him shitless as he was forced to leave him unattended to in the motel room.

He knew Loki was tough, but Howard was ruthless; and the combination didn't seem to weigh favorably for Loki. So that was only another concern, another anxiety to worry about; and yet Tony couldn't do a damn thing, since he'd become a warden of Casa de Stark.

Frustrated, Tony furled his hands into fists; he was compelled to punch a hole in the wall, or even break the aquarium that lined a good portion of his bedroom's wall. But he resisted the urge, since he knew it would only marginally make him feel better; and the look of exasperation and annoyance on Howard's face would only last so long before it faded into well-placed nonchalance; which, in turn, would only serve to fuel Tony's rage even more.

He stalked the width of his room like a caged animal, because there was nothing else he could do. Howard had specifically made it clear that he wasn't to leave their apartment; and Tony couldn't possibly do so either, with Howard still hovering around, as if he was some sort of protective parent instead of a blatant control freak.

Howard only cared about his image, and Tony was an extension of that. Most of the time, Tony flew under the radar; but it changed once Obie had spotted him in D. C. He became visible then, once someone important like Obie had seen him with unruly hair and dirty jeans. But god forbid, that Howard give a shit when he relayed information to Obie about his drunken mother or anything else for that matter.

Those sorts of things were inconsequential; what only mattered to Howard was self-preservation. Tony's well-being was hardly a factor; except when it threatened his image. And potentially having a gay son, touring alongside a rock band was just unacceptable; even if Tony didn't even think he was gay at all.

But trying to explain that to Howard really wasn't going to work. Not when Tony couldn't explain it to himself; and even if he had the ability to vocalize it properly, Howard wouldn't want to hear it anyway. He'd still be the flaming queen, the Stark family disappointment. Unless he had sex with a girl right in front of Howard, nothing was about to convince him otherwise; and he almost preferred being the family disappointment compared to that.

Tony stopped beside his window, which faced out onto Central Park. The urge to break the window's glass suddenly struck him hard; he knew it wouldn't accomplish anything, and yet he wanted to kick it out, maybe throw something out it as well. And yet he didn't; the logical side of him left him only to scowl out at the picturesque view.

Everything about it infuriated him; his whole life suddenly made him want to rage. Every small and inane detail of it was a source of his anger, and he was very close to screaming. It started deep in his chest and wanted to claw up his throat; he could almost feel the makings of it on the tip of his tongue, and just as he was about to unleash it, someone brusquely knocked on his door.

He whipped around so quickly, that it almost made him dizzy. Before he could gather his bearings, the door was pushed in and a familiar head popped in around the doorframe; followed by a familiar body dressed in beautiful red sundress.

"Hey, daddy-o," Sif greeted him with a small smile, while she closed the door behind her.

"Sif, what the hell are you doing here?" Tony asked, confused. "Is this some kind of daydream or something equally as stupid? Am I having a bad trip, maybe?"

Sif crossed the room quickly, despite wearing some pretty impressively high platform heels. She was dressed to the nines; her long brown hair was curled, accented by red flowers, probably artificial but no less pretty. Tony had to figure it had to do with the final show of the tour, which made him even angrier than he had been previously.

"I'm here to break you out." Sif explained, grabbing onto his wrists. "But you have to clean up; this is a big event, after all."

"Hello, if you haven't realized already, my old man put me on house arrest. Which leads to me my initial question – how the hell are you even here?"

"You have a friend in high places, daddy-o." Sif pulled him along towards the oversized bureau in the corner of his bedroom. "That guy we met at the restaurant in D. C., what's his name again?"

"You mean Obie?"

"Yeah, that's him. Well, he seemed concerned by what your pops did to Loki and how he was giving you hell on top of it; so he found your numero uno girlfriend here." She threw open the bureau's doors, shifting through several articles of clothing. "And you know, I wasn't about to correct him either."

Tony was even more confused than when Sif waltzed into his room. Obie defending him was odd, to say the least; but for him to actively seek out Sif was even more so. The only thing that wasn't strange about the situation was that Howard might have very well been swayed by a pretty girl.

Exasperated, but still confused, Tony watched as Sif raided his bureau and unearthed a bright red oxford that matched her dress perfectly. She found a new pair of jeans that he'd gotten several months beforehand and promptly forgot them here when he went back to L.A.; which had pissed him off at the time, but he forgot about them again within a matter of weeks.

"Take a shower and shave; but be quick. Your old man was kind of loopy, so it's better if we get out before he comes to." Sif demanded in a way that left no room for arguing, while passing him his clothing.

Wordlessly he stepped into his bedroom's adjoining bathroom, and made good use of his time. He took a quick but thorough shower, before dressing and planting himself in front of the vanity. His cheeks were speckled with red marks and a few purples ones; although the most disheveled thing about him was the state of his facial hair.

Tony careful shaved, tidying up his moustache and goatee until they were acceptable. He even made it a point to style his now shaggy head of hair; which was a vast improvement from the weeks and weeks of it being unkempt and, in so little words, hippie-like. Some might have even called it bohemian chic, but Tony would have had to disagree; he'd been walking around looking like hell.

Once he was meticulously groomed, he might even say looking good even; Tony exited the bathroom to find Sif looking out the window. She had already chosen a sleek pair of boots for him to wear, which weren't exactly his style but he put them on anyway.

"I'm finding this hard to believe still." He admitted, while adjusting one of the legs of his jeans. "This whole day has been a fucking rollercoaster. One minute I'm in a motel room with Loki, and the next my old man kicks in the door and tries to kill him. Which, by the way, I still have questions about Loki; and you're going to answer every single of them. And now you're telling me Obie went looking for you, and you somehow convinced Howard that you're my girlfriend, when he'd been slamming my ass all day about being a pansy."

"Stranger things have happened, don't you think?" Sif sighed, turning around, and surveying him from head to toe. "Honestly, I don't know the dynamics between you, that Obie guy, and your old man; but what I do know, is that I managed to break you out. And we need to get out before he changes his mind."

They, at least, agreed on that. Tony grabbed his shoulder bag, and slung it over his body; he led Sif from the room and into the brightly lit corridor. He could hear Obie and Howard speaking close-by, and he knew they were unavoidable; even if he preferred to jump out the window instead of face either of them.

They exited the corridor into the expansive living room whose view was to die for. Howard was clutching a tumbler of scotch in one hand, while talking in a hushed voice to Obie whom was only an arm's length away from him. And like clockwork, they both turned at Tony and Sif's appearance; Howard leered openly at Sif, which was hardly surprising.

Obie, however, approached them with a large smile on his face. Tony went rigid as Obie dropped his hand onto his shoulder and gave it a tight squeeze; but rather than ask or say anything unsightly, he simply smiled back.

"I told your old man he was out of his mind!" Obie exclaimed, motioning towards Howard. "I told him I saw you with your girlfriend in D. C.; so I just had to find the little girl and prove it to him. And then she was kind enough to explain that you had to bunk with that guy, since he wouldn't allow you guys to share a room."

"Yeah, of course," Tony agreed, trying to act naturally as Sif sidled up beside him, and wrapped her arm around his. "But Howie has a hard time listening, don't you?"

Howard only grunted in return, which meant he must have been calmed down by a combination of alcohol and Obie's reassurances that his son wasn't a poof. Either way, Tony wasn't about to hang around and provoke him back into his previous glory.

"Don't wait up." Tony muttered, before saying goodbye to Obie, and hurrying towards the front door.

Sif blurted out a goodbye as they crossed the threshold; but Tony didn't feel any safer while in the main corridor. He burst into a run, dragging Sif alongside him until they were forced to halt outside of the elevator's doors.

Without any warning, Tony suddenly burst out laughing. The situation was far from humorous, since his emotions had been shifting between anger and depression all day; and yet, he couldn't help but laugh. Maybe it was because his life was so fucked up, that it didn't seem real. Or maybe it was because his only other alternative would be to cry, and Tony Stark wasn't one for tears regardless of the circumstances (even if he lost it not so long ago).

Whatever the reason may be, Tony doubled over and laughed until Sif had to manually shove him into the elevator and try to calm him down as they descended to the lobby. But it took at least seven floors before he finally got a hold of himself enough to ask about Loki, and pray that Howard hadn't done irreversible damage to him.


	34. Chapter Thirty-three :: New York City II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really hoped to finish this the day before; albeit it just didn't work out that way. But the epilogue should be posted some time today anyway.
> 
> On a side note, thank you so much for the birthday wishes; you guys are so kind! Please let me shower you in love!
> 
> And a special thank you to both llykej and XxBooBooKittyxX for the drawings they've done of Tony and Loki respectively! I appreciate it so much; I can't really say it enough! <333
> 
> Finally, I listened to "Oh! You Pretty Things" by David Bowie while writing this, so I think it fits quite well; but that might just be me.

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**Chapter Thirty-three :: New York City II**

 

* * *

 

There was a decent sized dressing room, located a stone's throw away from the stage. It was basic but clean, with a large vanity that ran along one of the walls. Loki was hunched over, peering at the many cosmetic products sprawled out in front of him; he opened one then the other, before he settled onto a product Tony hadn't seen him use before.

It was fascinating to watch Loki apply a thick line of eyeliner to his eyelid. He traced the outside with precision, before he did the same to the other eye. Whoever had covered his bruised skin had done a good job, because Loki looked less like a demented raccoon and more like himself again. But this was a new flare with the eyeliner, which caused his eyes to really pop.

Only twenty minutes earlier, Sif had escorted Tony backstage; rather than following normal protocol, they'd been permitted to stay in close contact with the band. But only Tony had been given clearance to sit with Loki in the dressing room as he readied himself for the show; although Loki hadn't spoken, due to the fact Phil wanted to preserve his voice after the incident that morning.

From what he ascertained from Sif, Loki had some difficulty speaking; which led him to a self-induced vow of silence, followed by cup after cup of tea, and absolutely no cigarettes whatsoever. So it was to be expected, Loki would be in a crabby mood; albeit just without his trademark scathing retorts.

Slowly Loki lowered eyeliner pencil, studying his reflection with an ambiguous expression on his face. He tilted his head and continued to look at himself, almost as if this was the first time he'd ever seen his own reflection. There was something inquisitive about his stare, but it drifted away once he caught sight of Tony behind him.

Tony smiled at him, although it didn't meet his eyes. While he was thankful to be with Loki again, he knew it was for only one night. Tomorrow morning, as Phil declared, at nine o'clock sharp; the band would be on their way to London, for a brief reprieve before heading back on tour again.

"That's a new look for you." Tony murmured, obviously not expecting a reply though. "But it's not to say that it's a bad look. It's just new; different."

Loki stood from his seat, moving towards a small cupboard filled with unoccupied coat hangers. There was only one being used, and held a sleek leather jacket that matched the rest of Loki's ensemble. He wore a pair of black bell-bottoms and that forest green oxford that complimented his eyes; more so than before since they were now traced with eyeliner.

Tony watched as Loki pulled the jacket from its hanger, and slid it on with practiced care; which brought the entire outfit together perfectly and reminded him momentarily of Jim Morrison. The groupies would undoubtedly be in near hysterics once they saw him on stage. And Tony could relate, since there was something ethereal about him; something almost inhuman about him even.

It was an aura only Loki could possess; something genuinely special that so many people had finally witnessed. The New York crowd was bound to see it too; even after Howard choked Loki unjustifiably, the probability that he would perform with the same fervor as he had since Nashville was almost a given.

Tony lifted himself up from his rickety chair, but drew short of approaching Loki. There was an invisible barrier between them now; it was more than mere age or even the promise of five years. In that very moment, Tony realized Loki had transcended to another level entirely; more so than he had ever given stock to, even after the many mind blowing shows he played.

Loki had become a bona fide rock legend; an entity that Tony knew he'd never be able to touch as he had. He'd never be able to bury his face between his shoulder blades again; he'd never be able to embrace him and have the favor returned either. And that thought hurt insanely; even though he could only smile at him, as if everything was hunky-dory.

Slowly the dressing room door was eased open, to reveal Phil whom looked happy and exasperated. After the many ups and downs of the tour, Tony could only imagine this was a relief for Phil to have gotten the band to New York in one piece.

"It's time, Loki." Phil said in a way that as reverent as Tony felt; maybe Phil had noticed the change too.

"You, center stage," Loki finally spoke, before he smiled. "Philip, make it so."

"Right away, boss." Phil bowed his head and stepped aside so Loki could pass through the doorway.

Despite his better judgment, Tony couldn't help but stare at Phil in a way that must have been unpleasant because he received a glower in return. It was highly suspicious that Phil referred to Loki like that; Tony had seen them interact quite a bit during his time on tour, and yet Phil never called Loki boss.

He was about to ask about it, only for Phil to motion at the door in annoyance. The show was about to start; if it was any indication by the cries of the crowd that was now funneling through the opened door.

Deciding it was best to keep his mouth shut; Tony stepped into the dingy and poorly lit hallway. Phil quickly closed the dressing room's door, before starting towards the stage. The closer they drew to the stage, the louder and louder the crowd became. It was almost deafening; a cacophony of excitement that Tony knew he'd miss, after experiencing it almost every day for weeks on end.

On the edge of the stage stood the band; they stood in a circle, arms flung around one another in a show of camaraderie. Thor was speaking in a hushed voice, only pausing in the midst of his speech once Tony and Phil approached.

Without any explanation, Fandral disengaged his arm from around Loki's shoulders; he tilted his head to the side, signaling Tony to join them. Awkwardly he settled into the space provided to him, before both Fandral and Loki wrapped their arms around him. And it was only then that Tony noticed Sif was pressed in between Thor and Volstagg; she shot him an amused look, before rolling her eyes heavenward in feigned exasperation.

"Can't really have a pep talk without everyone, now can we?" Fandral said, patting Tony on the side. "You're one of us now, mate; whether you like it or not."

"Right then," Thor cut in, sparing everyone with a meaningful look. "This is our last gig stateside, so let's make it our best. Let's put all our differences aside for tonight and give the crowd what they came for and what they deserve; we'll show them what we are capable of."

"We'll blow them out of the water!" Volstagg boomed loudly.

"Best gig they'll see this year. No, this decade," Fandral added on.

"Then let's give it our all then, lads." Thor exclaimed; followed by a rambunctious affirmation from the majority of the group, except for Loki.

The congregation slowly dispersed; Phil called for both Tony and Sif, and led them towards the stage that was still overrun by roadies. The theater was completely filled; the balconies that were erected above the floor were also filled to their capacity. It had to be the biggest audience to date, which was overwhelming to say the least.

Phil walked to the edge of the stage, crouching down to speak to the bouncer who was standing vigil between the stage and the railing. The conversation was brief, but it was obviously effective. Phil motioned for them to come closer, before the bouncer reached for them and helped them down.

With some difficulty and a bit of an argument from the groupies already situated at center stage, Tony and Sif had taken the spot that had been promised to them. Of course, there were catty remarks to be had; but neither of them paid it any heed to them, as they settled against the railing.

"This is it, daddy-o." Sif murmured into his ear. "You've lived to see the last show."

"Kind of bittersweet," Tony replied, unaware how true those words until he'd spoken them.

Despite the many unfortunate incidents that had happened during his time on tour, Tony wouldn't have traded any them in for the world. Every bad situation always had a silver lining; and he knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that he had one of the most memorable summers of his life. He'd been with his favorite band on tour. He'd experienced things that only other people wished to; and he was grateful for every moment of it.

The lights slowly went out one by one then; the audience quieted down, waiting with building anticipation for the band to appear on the stage. And just like Tony's experience in Los Angeles, each member filed onto the stage, shadowy figures that glided into their respected positions. But it was only when that lithe and familiar figure drifted towards the microphone stand, that Tony felt his heart leap to his throat.

Red light began to filter through the darkness, and enveloped the entire stage just as Volstagg began to beat his drums with authority. Thor and Fandral soon followed Volstagg's lead, sending the room into a frenzy; screams and howls of excitement, entwined around Tony in a familiar embrace until they were sliced apart by the hard and confident edge of Loki's voice.

As soon as those few words exploded from Loki's mouth, Tony knew that this wouldn't be like any of the other performances that he had put on before; it would be better. He was confident in that assessment, and within a matter of moments he knew he'd been right.

The set was impeccable; the band played their hearts out. Every note, melody was spot-on, crisp, and clean. Thor was especially on the mark; his guitar solos riled up the crowd, sending many into spasms that would have been called dancing if it resembled it at all.

But it was Loki who stole the show; his aura and presence was a sight to behold. Everything about him had entranced the audience; bouts of silence frequently followed him, after he sang a particularly high note or when he burst out into action that was both fluid and graceful, comparable to the crowd's attempts at dancing.

Somewhere amid the set, Tony felt tears burn his eyes. Maybe it was childish, stupid even, but Tony was struck again and again by how far away Loki had gotten. That morning he'd been in his arms, a tangible entity, and now he was beyond his reach. He was a god amongst men; who was bringing the people around him into near hysterics.

Loki Odinson was a legend; the type that was revered by his peers and the musical snobs such as Hogun and that bastard Lars Berry. He would be plastered on every magazine cover from here to Timbuktu; his voice would be heard from every radio station in the country. And his likeness would, undoubtedly, be hanging from every teenage girl's wall from here on out.

No matter how hard Tony tried, he'd never be able to reach Loki again. He was certain of that once the lights flickered off again, plunging the room into darkness. The atmosphere was electric, almost reverent even. It was so quiet in the room, Tony suspected if someone had dropped a pin that it would be heard; albeit the silence didn't last very long.

The same lanky figure reemerged onto the stage, which riled up the crowd once more. A single spotlight turned on, illuminating Loki from head to toe. He stripped off his leather jacket long ago and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt up to the elbows, and somehow looked even more ethereal than he had beforehand.

Loki sat onto the barstool in front of the microphone stand; he laid his acoustic guitar across his thighs, adjusting it accordingly, before he stared out into the crowd. That inquisitive look, the one Tony hadn't seen since Los Angeles, flickered across Loki's face, as he scoured the crowd until his eyes landed on Tony.

"Hello New York. My name is Loki Odinson, and before I let you go I'd like to sing you a song. Cover song, mind you." Loki recited almost verbatim what he'd said for every encore. "I will be singing _Letter to Hermione_ by David Bowie."

Tony couldn't name all the cover songs Loki had done during his encores; but the one which meant the most to Tony had been the first he'd heard him sing. Loki hadn't sung _Letter to Hermione_ since the show in Los Angeles; and for some reason, Tony took it as a sentimental thing, as a way of Loki saying goodbye to him.

Gradually Loki began to play the melody on his guitar, before he began to sing into the microphone. There was gentleness to his voice, beautiful and unfiltered, as he sung the lyrics; it spoke to Tony on a level that he hadn't known existed until that very moment. And without his permission, tears welled up in his eyes again; but this time he couldn't hold them back.

Hot tears rolled down his cheeks, as Loki lost himself in the song. He swayed ever so slightly, enunciating the words with emotion that was forlorn and longing. He made the song his own; he'd taken the words written for someone else, and applied them to whomever he was singing the song to; although Tony suspected it might have very well been to Sif, as opposed to him.

But it didn't matter, because on some level Tony knew it was for him. Maybe it wasn't on the emotional level in which the song was meant to convey; however, it was the song that truly cemented his affection for Loki in Los Angeles in the first place.

The song eventually came to an end, trailing away into nothingness. The spotlight turned off once more, and left the crowd with the specter of Loki's presence; since he was no longer there once the lights filtered into the room. And despite the howls of appreciation, and the fanatical atmosphere that overtook everyone; Tony felt like his entire world came to an end, and the tears slid freely down his cheeks still.

 

* * *

 

The New York City skyline was breathtaking at night. Tony couldn't remember how many times he would sit by his window and admire the glittering lights; but it brought him some sort of reprieve, when his life felt like it was falling apart at the seams.

However, he remedied those feelings with a cheap bottle of wine, and a bird's eye view of the skyline. He took a page from Loki's book, and had climbed onto the theater's roof and then onto the adjoining building's which was at least three stories higher.

He drank from the neck of the bottle sloppily, already having achieved a nice buzz that muted his thoughts. Because he really didn't want to deal with them at the moment; not when he'd already broken down and cried during Loki's encore.

It would have been humiliating if it hadn't been genuine; and for once Tony allowed himself some leeway with his emotions, because it was the last time he'd see Loki in a very long time; if not forever. And if that seemed like a legitimate reason to cry; or at least, he was human enough to believe it was.

He downed another mouthful of wine, before he heard someone mounting the fire escape with deft and feline-like grace. It was only when a familiar head of jet black hair appeared in his eyesight that he forced himself to put down the bottle. After all, this was the person who put his emotions through the wringer, and left him even more pathetic than he'd originally been.

Loki slinked towards the edge of the building, where Tony had taken refuge with his legs thrown over the ledge. It was strangely reminiscent of the whole unsavory debacle in Seattle, and the one that followed in New Orleans; albeit Tony was now the unhinged one, playing too close to the edge for his own good.

"This is only the second time I've been in New York City." Loki began, pausing a stone's throw away, as he stuffed his hands into the pockets of his trousers. "The first, however, was when we touched down for the tour; so I had very little time to absorb the scenery properly."

"Too bad you're going home tomorrow; you won't even get to see the Statue of Liberty." Tony slurred, affixing his eyes on the barely noticeable scuff marks on Loki's boots.

He didn't think he could handle staring him in the eye. It was already hard enough when he was sober and lucid in mind; but being slightly drunk and emotional on top of it, would probably be the death of him. Hell, he might break into a corny love song to express the depth of his emotions for him; and that was something he wanted to avoid by all means.

Languidly Loki drew closer, before he lowered into a crouch. Tony couldn't help but look at him for a split-second; Loki was looking straight ahead, seemingly unaffected by being in Tony's presence. It was the exact opposite of how Tony felt, but he didn't dare verbalize it; the tears were still a possibility, and he already cried enough in front of Loki for a lifetime.

"This has been very hard on me, Anthony." Loki uttered suddenly. "Every day has been harder than the last; every day that I have to wake up and sing has been a burden to me. Which has only been exacerbated by the fact that, I've had unfortunate incidents with many who wish me dead."

Despite the seriousness of his tone, Loki laughed good-naturedly. They hadn't had the chance to discuss what had happened that morning, and Tony suspected Loki really didn't want to. Because really what could be said about the situation, beside the fact that Tony's father tried to kill him?

"I'm normally not this ill-tempered." Loki continued, once he gathered his bearings. "In fact, I had been called pleasant more than once. Then again it was my mother who said so; so perhaps I should take her observations with a grain of salt."

"Did you really mean what you said?" Tony blurted out, which seemed to have caught Loki temporarily off guard. "You know about that whole five year spiel? Or was that another way, you've decided to toy with me?"

There was a moment, where Tony swore that Loki might actually push him over the edge of the building and make a very unattractive pancake out of him. But it soon passed and revealed a nonchalant expression on the older man's face; which still was covered in makeup, and made him in the sparse light look oddly androgynous.

Tony suspected that he shouldn't have gotten slightly hard by the assessment; let alone when his mortality was hanging in the balance either, and yet he couldn't control it. His whole life was pretty much out of his control when it came to Loki. Albeit, his life really hadn't been that orderly beforehand either; not with his dysfunctional home life.

"I meant what I said." Loki said slowly, pinning him with an impenetrable stare. "Five years is ample enough time for you to become a worthwhile adult. Because despite your superior intellect and obvious independence, you are still a child; and I couldn't bring myself to allow you any closer than you've already been."

There was a pained inflection to Loki's voice, and Tony wondered if that had to do with what had happened when he was a child. But he knew better than to ask; after all, that was an event that Tony shouldn't have known about anyway. And it wasn't something you blurted out, in hopes of trying to understand someone's psyche.

"Five years is a long time, you know." Tony said tersely. "A lot of things can happen in five years; people change in five years. I might not even want you then; did you ever think about that?"

"I hadn't thought about that, and before you accuse me of vanity or anything else; it's because if you haven't any want for me in that time frame, how is that in any way a bad thing?" Loki raised both his eyebrows in question. "It might very well end up being for the best; and I certainly won't upend your life and force you to come to me."

"Then you really don't understand, do you?" Tony scowled, before taking a healthy drink from the wine bottle.

"I don't understand?" Loki repeated, letting out an exasperated chuckle. "I have been in love with my elder brother's girlfriend since the very moment I met her. I believe I understand more than you even know; and I like to think I have a greater insight in the ways of the heart than you do."

While Tony knew it was true, it didn't make him any less angry about it. Maybe it was because it was the first time Loki actually vocalized his feelings towards Sif; or maybe because he pulled the age argument on him. Either way, he was angry and showed it by knocking over the wine bottle with a clatter.

The remnants of wine spilled from the bottle, although Loki paid it very little heed. He only stood to his full height instead and extended his hand to Tony, like he had done in Newark. But this time around, despite his better judgment (or lack thereof), Tony took it.

Carefully Loki pulled him onto his feet; which took quite a bit of patience, since Tony was half-drunk and stubborn as hell. He managed though and before Tony knew it, Loki looped his arms around him and pulled him into an embrace that made his heart pound loudly in his chest.

Instinctively Tony hugged Loki back, placing his head to rest right over his heart. It hardly surprised him that Loki was perfectly calm, and seemed to be in no way affected by the embrace as Tony was. But that was a given.

"Little Stark, Little Stark," Loki murmured, before placing a kiss onto the side of his head. "You are in such a hurry to grow up. But mark my word; you're going to allow plenty of wonderful things to pass you by. That's why I want you to wait five years; and if by some chance, you no longer find any reason to come to me then I want you to live your life to the fullest."

Tony buried his face against Loki's exposed collarbone, and hoped that he would be strong enough to keep his tears at bay. Because this was the moment he feared for; it was the last goodbye. And within a matter of hours, Loki would walk right out of his life; only connected to him by a couple thousand words in a magazine.

That was the biggest tragedy of it all. Loki would only become a printed account of Tony's; he'd become a two-dimensional character, the Mad Hatter to Tony's doe-eyed Alice. No matter how he hard he might cling to his likeness, the way that he talked; Tony knew that within a matter of weeks it would become vague and slowly fade away.

"Become a successful music reporter, Little Stark." Loki hummed, only to pull away for they could look at one another. "And I'll become the person that you wanted me to be. Rest assured, I know what you want from me; and I am not one to disappoint."

Tony hadn't any chance to question him; in fact, he really hadn't any desire to once Loki leaned down and pressed a chaste kiss to his lips. But he hadn't a chance to enjoy it properly, because soon enough Loki disengaged from him, and within a matter of moments he was gone.


	35. Epilogue - London

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know how satisfied with the epilogue I am; but it serves its purpose. And we finally get to see things from Loki's perspective.
> 
> I listened to "My Death" (live in Santa Monica '72) by David Bowie for a good majority of the time that I wrote this. So it might be worth a listen.
> 
> And I must thank 1111/dbananza for the amazing Loki fanart; I'm in awe and I love it! <33

* * *

 

 

**Epilogue :: London**

 

 

* * *

 

The Rolling Stone magazine lay dog-eared in front of Loki. He had read it at least twenty times already and found his anger growing with every read. Little Tony Stark really had gone above and beyond what he thought him possible of; because he certainly hadn't expected to be slandered so wholly.

And yet he was the only one dissatisfied with the spread; everyone else had been tickled pink by how they were depicted. Thor even had the gall to frame the cover, which they'd been photographed for several weeks after they returned from the states.

Had Loki known what the article would inevitably entail, he wouldn't have agreed to be photographed for the blasted magazine; although he hadn't anyone to blame but himself. He had gone against Hamish's advice and gotten involved with a two-bit reporter, looking for a story.

He glowered at the magazine, before knocking it off the vanity and onto the dirty floor. His bad temperament flared for the umpteenth time that day. But he could only think that it would end soon; very soon. Within a matter of hours, he would be free.

"I warned you." Hamish said suddenly, after minutes of absolute silence.

"Yes, very well and good. Now if only you had the ability of time travel." Loki scowled at his reflection, although he approved of it nonetheless.

The only thing he disproved of was his own naiveté; he had assumed he would be safe with someone seemingly so enamored with him. But that probably worked against him; and he had been so foolish to believe Stark's intentions were pure.

"However, this might work to our advantage." Hamish continued thoughtfully. "It certainly caught the attention of many people, and all of it wasn't that bad. At least the lad complimented your stage performance, your vocal abilities."

"Only to slander my person instead,"

"You have reason to be angry. But rest assured your attitude, or his description of such, hardly weighs heavily on record executives' minds. In fact, those bits are inconsequential. They only serve as fodder for gossipers."

"How could I have been so stupid?" Loki slammed his hands against the vanity's tabletop. "I am always so careful, knowledgeable about these sorts of things!"

"Fatigue, maybe." Hamish drawled, before climbing to his feet. "Although we both know you've been distracted for months; after all, this has been the day you've been waiting for. So pay this article no mind for now; I want you to give the performance of your career once you get out there."

Reluctantly Loki stood from his seat; he studied his reflection for several moments, and liked the fact that he looked almost unrecognizable. In fact, he looked almost feminine with the many layers of makeup he applied to his face not so long ago.

Thor would surely be incensed by his appearance, but he hardly cared. His opinion mattered very little over the past year; and their mutual hatred only continued to grow with every passing day. They had even gotten into nasty altercations almost every other day on their European tour.

"Focus only on your performance." Hamish patted him on the shoulder. "And keep your mouth shut; we'll have a proper conversation tomorrow at my office."

"Yes, of course." He uttered in return, albeit he was fueled by anger to do the opposite of what he was told.

He and Thor had gotten into a row only hours before, and his brother had the gall to bring up the magazine article again. He even had memorized bits and pieces of it, just so he had proper ammunition to throw at him, when his inelegant tongue failed him.

The description that had gotten to him especially had been: _the pompous and self-appointed king of the band, had proven himself the fool on more than one occasion during their stateside tour; frequently coinciding with temper tantrums, when he hadn't gotten his way_. And oh, how Thor reveled in quoting it verbatim!

Enraged further by that recollection, Loki wretched open the dressing room's door. Hamish was close behind him as he made his way towards the stage; and to be expected, Thor and Volstagg and Fandral were already waiting for him.

None of them were pleased to see him, although their expressions changed from annoyance to surprise by his appearance, no doubt. While his clothing remained fairly basic, he had done quite a number on his face; but by no means was it unappealing, in fact he was sure that the women in the audience would appreciate it immensely.

Thor looked particularly alarmed; he appeared as if he was about to explode into a colorful rant. But Hamish was quick to step in, and order them to the stage; in a voice that left no room for argument. And for once, Thor wasn't about to start a fight; at least not when the rumble of the audience was so apparent now.

One by one they filed onto the darkened stage, taking up their respected spots for the final time. And for the first time in months, Loki felt relief; relief to know that he would only have to stand there beside his brother for one last time. He'd never have to do it again; never have to be a victim to Thor's whims and demands. He'd finally be free.

Automatically, once the music rumbled around him, Loki opened his mouth and belted out the well-worn lyrics he'd been singing for close to two years. Almost every day, without fail, he sang those exact same songs in hopes of replicating the record. And each time, he found his performance to be lackluster as if he could never hit that peak of greatness again.

But this time, he knew differently. He knew that this performance would be like no other; because he had something to prove to the world. To everyone who had the gall to criticize him, to take advantage of him for that matter. He wanted to outshine Thor and he wanted to shame that little cad reporter Stark, who had written such defamatory things about him.

He sang like his very life depended on it; the words erupted powerfully from his body, until they encompassed the entire theater. His head rang from the sheer force in which he sang; and it only grew more and more unbearable as time went on.

It was only when the last song drew to a close, that Loki felt some semblance of control again. And yet it wasn't enough; he was determined to take back his life. He'd been held prisoner by Thor for far too long, and he would be damned if he didn't take back his control on his own terms.

"Hello London; we are Odin's Sons and my name is Loki Odinson." He announced suddenly, before the rest of the band could clamber off-stage.

The audience cried back at him, excited for no other reason but to be so. Faces of all sorts stared at him in varying degrees of admiration; some familiar from their previous shows throughout the week, while others were brand new and wide-eyed.

In one of the balconies that hung suspended above the crowd, Loki could see two very familiar individuals that he hadn't seen for some time. Odin and Frigga, his mother and father, Thor's mother and father, sat watching the stage closely; watching him closely. And he was hardly surprised to see a mixture of awe and exasperation on both their faces.

"And I wanted to thank you; every single one of you." He uttered slowly, allowing his gaze to drift from one section of the audience to the other. "Thank you for sharing in this moment with me. My final show with Odin's Sons,"

His words immediately caused their desired effect; a collective gasp overwhelmed the theater. But that was out trumped by the roar that exploded from Thor's side of the stage. The one Loki had waited so long to hear, since he'd been approached by Hamish about the opportunity to go solo.

"But we, undoubtedly, will meet again. I am sure of that." He smiled, before sliding the microphone into its stand. "You haven't heard the last of me yet."

Suddenly a high-pitched whine from Thor's amplifier cut through the confused cries of the audience; and it was far too late for Loki to avoid the contact that met his face. Thor swung at him and connected with his jaw; the impact sent him staggering, almost careening into Fandral who'd been gaping in shock at him all that time.

Somehow he miraculously remained upright; he cradled his jaw, only to duck as another wayward fist flew at him. Within a matter of moments, all hell broke loose. Volstagg kicked over his drum kit and was flying towards either Thor or Loki, he couldn't be certain. But Thor was the one who'd gotten struck by Volstagg; and then Fandral was grabbing onto him, almost hurling him towards the side of the stage where Hamish was about to storm forward.

Loki careened with Hamish, who was quick to manhandle him and pull away from the melee on stage. They rushed into the adjoining corridor, passing by confused stage hands and theater employees alike. Hamish was barking out orders to one of his underlings about bringing the car around, before Thor could pursue them.

"You certainly know how to make a statement." Hamish huffed, keeping a firm arm around his waist, lest he try and return to the stage.

"I do whatever I please; I thought you already knew that." Loki returned breathlessly. "The rise and fall of Loki Odinson, I would say."

"That might be the case," Hamish eyed him from his peripheral, as they hurried to the exit. "But from now on it'll only be the rise of Loki Laufeyson."

It was the first time, but most certainly not the last, that someone referred to him as newly adapted stage name. And unlike Loki Odinson, Loki Laufeyson found the situation utterly hilarious and couldn't help but laugh, laugh himself hoarse. And that was because he was finally free.


End file.
